The Rectory Window

Saw their faith (2:5) In 1887 Anne Sullivan was employed to teach a young girl, Helen Keller, who could neither see nor hear. Anne experimented with repeatedly spelling single words onto Helen's hand to give her the beginnings of a vocabulary. Helen managed to use this as a tool to label objects but did not understand it as a language for communication. Then one day Helen kept confusing cup and water and Anne, possibly in exasperation, took her to the pump. Helen takes up the story, 'She spelled w-a-t-e-r emphatically. I stood still, my whole body’s attention fixed on the motions of her fingers as the cool stream flowed over my hand. All at once there was a strange stir within me—a misty consciousness, a sense of something remembered. It was as if I had come back to life after being dead! That word “water” dropped into my mind like the sun in a frozen winter world. The world to which I awoke was still mysterious; but there were hope and love and God in it, and nothing else matt

Above his head (2:4) A month ago today, a 7.0 earthquake hit Izmir, a port city on the Turkish mediterranean coast. In the heart of the city, apartment blocks collapsed trapping residents under the rubble. A race began to rescue survivors. After 65 hours of digging, a 3 year-old girl was recovered from the wreckage of her home. Having little hope that she is still alive, her rescuer called for a body bag or blanket with which to cover her still form. As he began to wrap her up, a tiny hand reached out and grabbed his thumb. On the photos, you can still see her little fingers holding tight as she is carried away to the ambulance. I imagine the paralysed man's friends pressing their ears to the roof of the house to listen for Jesus' voice to guide their digging. When they find it, they dig, not this time to rescue the one who is speaking, but to rescue the one whom they love enough to risk upsetting rather a lot of people, including the owner of the house. It is as if it is they

Carried by four of them (2:3) The proverb, it takes a village to raise a child, is thought to originate in Nigeria. It refers to the idea that children acquire a rounded personality from safe interaction with lots of different people, and not just their parents. Bertrand Russell went one step further, suggesting to one correspondent that her biological parents were the worst people to bring her up as they would share her innate prejudices rather than lead her to question them. As a child my parents took me on Christian holidays on which they led. They were always busy and left me to my own devices, allowing me to get to know lots of very different people, all in an entirely safe environment. It was a taste of heaven that has never left me. It took four men to carry the paralysed man to Jesus, maybe because they had only a sheet on which to bear him, but he had many more companions on the journey. It seems it takes a whole village to bring someone to Jesus so they can be made whole. Now

No room left (2:2) The rockstar of the 18th Century revival was not John or Charles Welsley but one George Whitefield. His sermons attracted so many that even the largest churches were not big enough, so he moved outside. One such meeting, the largest recorded, saw 23,000 people gathering at Boston Commons. It is estimated that in his lifetime he preached to 10 million, all of whom had to travel to see him. This at a time of limited, slow and dangerous transport, no sound amplification and a scattered rural population one tenth of today's. Often his congregations were larger than the total population of the town he was visiting. All to hear the message of hope in Christ, simply and dramatically told. Today the story of Jesus, lover of the lost, giver of eternity, friend of sinners and lord of all, is welcomed around the world. Today as we invite the Holy Spirit into our lives the touch of God's love is available to us all. Today there is always room.

Come home (2:1) In David Goodhart's book The Road to Somewhere he argued that a key faultline in Brexit Britain lay between the somewheres - people rooted in a single community, and socially conservative in values - and the anywheres - people socially liberal in values, and geographically mobile. This idea had enough traction to cause controversy at the time, and it remains intriguing to think that may be more than just our political values are governed by what makes us feel at home. We might wonder as we put our next cross in a box, or find our next job, or decide on our next holiday, if home is what we leave behind, or what we take with us.  Unsurprisingly Jesus seems here to fit neither category, being both rooted and mobile. His home is not somewhere, or anywhere, because his home is in heaven. Is ours?

Stayed outside (1:45)  Rowan Atkinson tells a story about fame. He was standing in line in a car parts store when one of the other customers recognized him. Or at least was struck by how much he looked like Mr Bean. 'You're the spitting image of that Mr Bean. You could make money out of that, yer know!' Rowan owned up to being the actor that plays Mr Bean, but the man didn't believe him, and the more Rowan Atkinson claimed it was him the crosser the man got. In the end Rowan had to get out, fast, before he got into a fight. Fame for Jesus meant isolation. No longer could he mix freely, visit family or sit in the synagogue. Today, fame can make you money - just being famous leads advertisers to pay you to use their products. However, it still has many drawbacks. As Megan Fox puts it, 'Fame is being bullied by millions of people constantly'. Often we think loneliness is just about being alone, but let us not forget that loneliness can be felt as much, or more, by

As a testimony (1:44)  The Reverend Richard Coles is a Radio 4 staple. His sultry tones brighten up many a slumbering Saturday morning with warmth and light in equal measure. His establishment credentials are unusual, however, as it is his partnership with Jimmy Somerville in the 80s pop band The Communards , rather than his role as a country clergyman, that gives him kudos in radio world. Recently though he has been more public with aspects of his personal faith, explicitly talking about being filled with the Holy Spirit, not in the very visible way often desired (or disliked), but in a quiet inner depth of experience. Throughout the New Testament the infilling of the Spirit and its visible manifestation are seen as signs of God's activity. It is intriguing therefore that when Jesus wants someone to show his healing publicly he chooses a very traditional form: offering the sacrifice decreed by Moses. It seems that Christ wasn't fussed about the type of worship but about the so

Jesus sent him away (1:43)  It was pouring with rain - that dreary, damp drizzle that gets in under almost any coat - and it added an extra layer to my depressed mood. I'd been dropped off at my new boarding school and the reality was just beginning to sink in. All the comfort and familiarity of home stripped away to be replaced with hard wooden floors, unheated bedrooms and no privacy, absolutely none. I'd been sent away. There was much that was positive in my boarding school moment, but I doubt any of us forget that first abandonment. One friend still recalls his father's words when saying goodbye to him at 7 years old, 'We don't hug any more, son, we shake hands'.  I wonder how our man with leprosy felt at being sent away. An initial feeling of being abandoned maybe, but quite quickly a growing sense of excitement. Now he was healed he could rejoin society, go back to his family, share in the weekly worship. Do we still get this thrill of new beginnings when

The leprosy left (1:42)  So many of our difficulties in life appear to us as an alien invasion. Not only viruses and bacterial infections but mental health problems of all kinds attack us as if they are agents who come in from outside. Our dreams are invaded by fears, our every day lives are invaded by anxieties and our plans are invaded by doubt and despair. So the image of Jesus driving out the skin disease is very poignant. Today we ask him to drive out all that is not of him, so that we can find our true self, which has been buried under all the weights we carry. As the Scriptures have it, 'Perfect love drives out all fear'. And then our prayer may continue - and keep them out Lord, put a wall around my heart, a barrier around my mind that I may stay healthy in mind, body and spirit. Amen.

Jesus was indignant (1:41)  If you were brought up in the 1970s, then you may remember the film Jesus of Nazareth . Reportedly the suggestion of Pope Paul VI, Zeferelli's film has drawn plaudits and brickbats in equal measure. At six and a half hours it was certainly a marathon and it covers a large chunk of the gospel with reverential accuracy. However I remember it for one thing and one thing only: Robert Powell's Jesus. Long straight hair, piercing blue eyes and a lilting soft resonant voice - he was hypnotic. Sadly, when I read the gospels, he was also nothing like the real Jesus. As a middle eastern man Jesus was curly-haired and brown-eyed, of course, but that wasn't the real problem. No it was the softness. It was like they'd missed the man who turned over tables, insulted dignitaries and kings, broke taboos and lived rough; and, as here, the man who was filled with such strong emotion that everyone around could see it on his face. Jesus was indignant or, as the

If you are willing (1:40)  'I had a difficult childhood. My father was a victim of war and was admitted to hospital when I was a baby, never to be released. It affected me deeply. I suffered several mental breakdowns and received electroconvulsive therapy treatment (ECT). One day, I was weeping in the bathroom when the Lord God spoke to me this verse: "Be still, and know that I am God". I was, literally, spellbound. I listened to his voice and he led me, through the words of the Bible, out of the darkness into his glorious light. I went on, over many years, to become a very active member of my church. Thanks be to God!' (Taken from the Bible Society booklet Words of hope when times are tough ) If you are willing...how absurd. Of course Jesus is willing. He longs to bring hope and life and peace. But are we ready to ask?

Preaching in their synagogues (1:39)  In 1866, Robert Thomas persuaded the captain of the american vessel the General Sherman to sail to the shores of Korea. At that time Korea was closed to foreigners with some 8000 Christians murdered by the government in an attempt to purge the country of this foreign religion. Thomas was undaunted and threw pamphlets onto the river banks as they passed. As a result an uproar ensued which led to the death of all aboard the General Sherman as well as a number of local officials. Thomas's cargo of bible portions was left scattered on the shoreline, to be picked up by an official named Pak Yong-Sik, who took them home and used them to paper the walls of his house. The story then becomes a little hazy but what is clear is that the house and its walls became the centre of a Christian revival. People came from all over to see the house and its bible wallpaper, which led to the appearance locally of over a hundred churches. Jesus' words passed dow

Somewhere else (1:38)  I found myself this Sunday evening worshipping with folk from Holy Nativity Church, Mixenden. For those who don't know, Mixenden is north of Halifax in the wonderful ancient county of Yorkshire - and the accents were beautifully local. As I watched I was transported to another place, to 'somewhere else', and it was marvellous: familiar yet strange, comforting yet challenging, simple yet thoughtful. Just what I needed. Jesus was keen not to get trapped in one type of tradition or one set of accents or one group of faces. He was ready to move on as his Father moved him, to go somewhere else, to taste something new. Are we?

They exclaimed (1:37)  'Is it your day off?' It's a common question aimed at vicars found anywhere not in the parish. The implication is usually '...if it's not, why are you [shopping]' or similar word. It contains more than a hint of complaint, though I suppose the answer is always going to be, 'Well... not now'. I wonder if Jesus felt the same. Here were the disciples having a good moan at him without taking the time to wonder why he was off on his own. Just as, to stay sane, the vicar needs the odd break in the middle of a working week, so Jesus needed a moment alone with his heavenly Father to recharge and get ready for the next stage of the mission. Indeed we all need to permit ourselves time to kick back and take time out, without guilt or the fear that someone somewhere is going to see us as slackers. How about it? As the song goes, 'Today I don't feel like doing anything'. Why not give it a try - you never know, it might be just what

Went to look for him (1:36)  As a young man I was a keen climber of roofs. At school you could shin up a particular drain pipe and find yourself atop the main corridor between the Grignon Hall and the classics department. It is surprising how much of a sense of freedom 10 feet of vertical height provides. We were lost in another world - that is until we discretely dropped to the ground right in front of a school prefect. Bless him, he hardly batted an eyelid and merely suggested it might be a good idea not to go up there again. I wonder how happy Jesus was to be searched out. I suspect he was rather enjoying his freedom. When we read the gospels we often focus on the progression of new people Jesus meets and forget the continual presence of his apostles-to-be. It must have been lovely to escape them for a bit.  Do we allow ourselves to escape enough? Oh I know for some life involves too much alone time, but for others there is not enough. We mustn't be ashamed of our need to get aw

Very early (1:35)  The alarm rang into my dreams. As my befuddled brain sought to make sense of the clanging noise, my beloved wife was already jumping out of bed. It was the morning of my son's first international competition and we had to be up and out to catch the plane. Four enormous bags containing a plethora of windsurf gear accompanied us into the car, adding to the adventure. We'd packed the kitchen sink and were ready for anything. I wonder if Jesus had the same excitement about getting up very early. He had an appointment with his heavenly Father, sharing the mission of the day and planning his next steps. Now that would be a thrill. A friend and I are planning an all night vigil in March on the eve of the Feast of the Annunciation.  Maybe you'd like to join us?

They knew who he was (1:34)  Many, many years ago, I went shopping with my grandmother in Liberties on Regent Street. I had a penchant for paisley ties for some reason, and I think Granny just liked being in London with her grandson. Near the end of the trip we took a lift down from the third floor and, on entering, were met by an older couple standing at the back. He looked familiar. It was a slow lift and I spent the next few minutes in a lather of indecision. Should I introduce myself and ask where we had met? It is so rude to ignore someone you know. I wimped out, wisely as it turned out, for as they left to go I realised that he was the current Home Secretary.  One might wonder why Jesus wasn't grateful to be recognized. After all he spent the next three years trying to get his disciples to do so. But no, he forbade the unclean spirits from passing on their secret knowledge. He didn't want good press from bad mouths. It makes me wonder why we are so concerned about what pe

The whole town gathered (1:33)  The town where we used to live, Abingdon, has a unique tradition. Whenever there's a royal event, the local nobs gather on the roof of the town hall and throw buns into a waiting crowd. The building is on stilts and very tall so the buns seem to appear out of an empty sky. It's fun but has a few downsides. When it's raining the buns tend to splat everywhere. Even when it's dry the chuckers aim is generally rubbish so a few people leave with dozens while most go home empty handed. But it's the kind of event where a reporter might say that the whole town gathered. Peter's home town had rather more reason to gather. This wasn't a mere show but a spiritual and medical feast. The Lord of Life was on the doorstep of a local house dispensing healing and blessing in equal measure. So one is left to ponder why the whole town is never drawn to our Christ-like moments. If we could offer healing would they come? I suspect they'd think

After sunset (1:32)  I love the dark. From walking lamp-free streets without a torch, to lying in a field looking up at the stars, I find it more like a comforting blanket than a threatening void. I especially love it on warm Mediterranean evenings. The sun goes down quite early but the air remains balmy for hours. Then you can stroll to the harbour, stop for a meal and wander home, all without the need of a jacket or long trousers. Perfect. I assume it was like this when they brought people to Jesus. The working day was done and the time had come for family and friends, for tending to the needy and feeding the sick. And to have the miracle maker there too? It must have been quite a carnival atmosphere. As we lock down and lock in, we miss all this liveliness more than ever. Our bubbles have burst, our friends are far away and our hopes are hidden by a dark cloud. So now maybe is a time to turn to one another in new ways. We're planning Crunchies Coffee, a few older and alone-er ge

Helped her up (1:31)  I have been made redundant twice so far. Neither was fun. The first was a structural reorganisation. Apparently the American office did more work in less time than us, so all the work was going their way. The subtext was 'you lot are lazy' though I suspect the reality was 'we don't have to give them holidays'. The second was a form of constructive dismissal, I now think, but I was young and naive and trusting. Both got me on a new track. Both were, in the end, good news. It is often pointed out, with a wry smile, that Jesus got Peter's mother-in-law out of bed so she could serve tea, which doesn't look like much of a blessing, but I'd have to disagree. Purposeful, significant work is a great blessing. As a middle eastern mum I expect she reveled in feeding up her son-in-law and his friends. So as we ponder all those whose livelihoods are currently disappearing, we need to hold these two competing truths close by: that in God's e

Simon's mother-in-law was in bed (1:30)  I spent a year in bed. Well, not all the time, thankfully, but a lot of it. I had come down from college with what was then called post-viral fatigue syndrome, and had no energy for anything. On my best days I would read one sentence of a book and lie on the grass in Richmond Park watching the sky, thinking of nothing. For me bed is both a prison and a promise, a place of restriction and a place of recovery. I wonder what bed meant for Peter's mother-in-law. Peace from the constant demands of womanhood in the first century? Probably not. This fever had driven her to bed and it became her temporary prison from which Jesus would set her free.  Are we trapped by our circumstances? A new lockdown can feel that way for some. For others they've been trapped for years. Let's today offer that prison to the Lord and ask him for a route out. 

To the home of Simon and Andrew (1:21)  In early October 1940, Philip Schneidau parachuted into France, carrying with him two pigeons stuffed into a pair of toe-less socks. Ten days later, when a Lysander plane that was supposed to pick him up didn’t appear, Schneidau encoded a message and attached it to the leg of one of the pigeons, releasing the bird from Fontainebleau at 8.20am on Sunday. By 3pm the same day, the pigeon had arrived home in Kenley, just south of London, with news of his plight.  The idea of home is ingrained in us, just like a pigeon. It acts as an anchor in a confusing world. In today's mobile society it can be less secure, but we still feel it. It is unsurprising then that Peter and Andrew invite Jesus home. For them it was a safe place. For him I wonder. Was he pining for a heavenly home? It is central to Christian thinking that we have an eternal home, a place of absolute safety and complete welcome. Do we feel its pull or is it a rather frightening thought?

Spread quickly (1:28)  As I watched the two experts, my jaw began to drop. One, in Edinburgh, explained with absolute clarity how Asian Pacific countries eliminate the virus: by supporting self-isolation, maintaining secure borders and testing everyone. The other, in Oxford, rambled on about shielding the elderly while getting used to living with the virus. So I began to wonder if our reactions are not logical but cultural. Are the elderly more likely to be revered in Asia and isolated in Europe? Does the West spend while the East saves? With Jesus it was news that spread not infection, but, for some, it was just as life changing. The old order of Judaism was overturned by this new Messiah, who broke so many cultural norms to bring new life to his hearers. Are we ready to do the same?