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Lent is a time to be honest with God about our weaknesses and our need of His strength. So, it is a serious time.

Easter, though, is a time of hope – so a joyful time. But it is a hope not based on a fairytale where everything comes right without a cost. That is just escapism. Rather it is a hope based on the reality we see both in our own lives and in the world round about us.

One of the stories after the resurrection is about when the disciples other than Thomas meet Jesus. They tell Thomas who doesn’t believe it. Jesus meets Thomas later and tells him to put his hand in Jesus’ side where he was wounded with a spear at the crucifixion – and Thomas also sees his hands where the nails had driven through. The terrible journey Jesus went through to death on a cross, is part of Jesus’ risen appearance. As I say: it is no fairytale.

Which is why it is good news (which is the deepest meaning of the word Gospel). The joy of Easter is not based on escapism:  it faces the world – with its pain and sadly often war and violence and hatreds – full on. The Christian Easter message is that Jesus faced all those awful things, but they could not defeat him. The love he showed, proclaimed and taught – the infinite love of a loving God – is not defeated by all the real pain and hard things we see round about us. That faith and belief has kept literally millions and millions of people going even when life is very hard, as it can be.

I often like to look up the lives of some of the hymn writers. It amazes me how much we have to learn from them. One is a Presbyterian minister, George Matheson, who lived from 1846 to the early C20th. He is known now particularly for one hymn, slightly Victorian in its tone, with the first line “O love that wilt not let me go”. He went blind in his early twenties and his fiancé, on seeing this, broke of their engagement saying she could not cope. He never married.

In the hymn there is a line referring to his blindness “I yield my flickering torch to thee”. The next verse combines what I have tried to refer to in this Easter  article – our hope and joy is not in avoidance of pain, but in being held through it:

So, wishing you all simply “Happy Easter” does not do justice to what it is really about: hope and joy that, while indeed there is pain in our world, God’s love is stronger than all things. Which is why Mother Julian of Norwich, a mystic who lived in an age of much suffering, is known for a beautiful and simple phrase: “All is well, all manner of things shall be well”.

Peter

A question for Lent: How do we see human nature?  Or, in the title of a novel I am trying to read by David Szalay – “All that man is”.

I ask because the traditional way faith speaks about this is now very different from how much of society sees the question. We are encouraged in our society to emphasise praise and achievement. There is much good sense in this: it builds up self -confidence and self-worth, which are keys to success and perhaps to happiness.  It is, though, in contrast to my old-fashioned school reports which were often somewhat discouraging and negative – words and phrases like “disappointing” and “could do better”, seemed used liberally. These comments did not help or encourage me.

But if dangers lurk in the attitude of my school teachers, they also lurk in an over emphasis on praise: we can avoid facing our weaknesses and our mistakes and perhaps end up with a view of ourselves far from reality. I sometimes mention the man who is on his fifth marriage and tells people that the other four wives were all impossible!  He is of course the common denominator!  How self-aware are we?

So, there is a dilemma: too much reality can make us seem failures and be discouraging; too much praise can make us feel complacent and self-satisfied.

The Christian understanding of human nature, I think, succeeds in holding these together and in a creative way. It does not pretend all is well with us. How can it be when we see the level of injustice, human-made grief and sadness and inequality in the world? It takes this seriously and our responsibility for it – and also for the many ways, at least I, fall short of loving my neighbour as myself. But, at the same time, my faith tells me God forgives me and I – as all humans – am infinitely precious to him. Faith uses the phrases fallen, (to face the bad bit) and made in the image of God (the good bit). Jesus’ life, death and resurrection show us true love in action (his life) and both the cost (his death) and power (the resurrection). In this narrative, I can have the courage to face my failures in love without it leading to negativity. I know I am loved and God wants me to get up, say sorry and then look to the future secure in God’s love.

I came across a line I had missed from Eliot’s Four Quartets, which I think points to this, (and in a deeper way than my prose!): “we had the experience but missed the meaning.” I also came across a poem I had never seen before, which sheds a light on our nature, our failure and our hope in God’s love. It is called A little prayer for Samson and Delilah by a living poet, Diane Tripp:

When all virtue
Like Samson’s Rastafarian locks
Lies strewn about us,
Have mercy, Lord,
On those who sleep in weakness
And those who have shorn us of strength.
Like the growing stubble on Samson’s head,
Let us be renewed to undertake
The phenomenal as a matter of course
When we awaken
From the lap of philistine ease.

Peter

Lent comes round very quickly this year – because (of course!) Easter is fixed on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Spring Equinox and this year that event happens to be early. It is one of the increasingly few Christian beliefs that still has a practical effect in our more secular society on everyday life for all. No doubt many would like a more certain and fixed event. We need to be careful what we wish for: I meet a surprising number of people who wish we could revert to a weekly rhythm with Sunday as a different day – another ancient bit of Christian faith and wisdom abandoned largely before the altar of retail and spending.

There is, though, an ebbing of this secular tide – albeit slight. Sales of The Bible in the UK reached a record high in 2025 (6.3 million) – a lot of them to young adults.  Many people are beginning to realise that the Christian faith, in addition to the personal strength, hope and purpose it can give, is a bulwark defending the human rights and value of every human being – and that in a world where it is now often under attack. Support on this wider level has come from some very unexpected places.  Richard Dawkins, of The God Delusion fame, has referred to himself as a Cultural Christian.

As an aside, The God Delusion was a book I found very disappointing – and not for the obvious reason for a vicar. I had always found Dawkins’ earlier writing on biology, for instance The Blind Watchmaker, to be brilliant. In contrast, in trying to debunk Christianity in The God Delusion, he used the tired trick of often quoting from the most extreme, and to my mind odd theologians, (some of whom I have never heard of), to make his point. The equivalent would be debunking Isaac Newton’s ground-breaking insights into gravity, because he also believed a lot of very weird things about magic in the world.

The Judeo/Christian tradition stresses the importance of each individual and within that the centrality of forgiveness and reconciliation between people. I am aware, of course,  the church has not/does not always live up to that calling: but the fact it is central to the Christian narrative of the life death and resurrection of Jesus, is the key to the centrality of these beliefs.

Cultural Christianity is also aware that in order to retain these bulwarks of freedom and respect for individuals, the visible manifestation of those values – the local church – needs to be maintained and not just the fabric, but its mission. In the churches in our benefice there are a wide variety of types of worship, trying to respect that we are different in what we find helpful: and above all, they are communities of faith trying to live out that vision of being loving people.

Lent will shortly be here – so perhaps a time to think on these things and their importance. Help us as churches to build community and you might find in so doing that the vision of Holy Week at the end of Lent, with Palm Sunday leading through the crucifixion to Easter resurrection, is not only cultural significance, but also a way of life.

Peter

The Church, I think in its wisdom, has 12 days of Christmas, which means – at least if your magazine drops through your door on time – it isn’t over yet. The 12^th day is called The Epiphany.

Again, in its wisdom, between the celebration of the birth of Jesus and January 6^th, the church holds four commemorations – that of Stephen the first Christian martyr (26^th), of John the evangelist who wrote the fourth gospel (27^th), of the Holy Innocents killed by Herod (28^th) and the naming of the baby Jesus (1^st January).

I am not telling you all this to be erudite (it is easy to look up and my church diary gives all the info!), but because one of the things I love about the Christian faith is that it covers all the reality of our world – its hope with all the joy there is when a baby is born; its injustices and grief when we see so many killed by hatred and war; and its visionaries who give us purpose.  John the evangelist shows throughout his gospel that the love and light of God is stronger than the darkness we all sadly see.

And then the 12^th day – The Epiphany, which is traditionally the day when the wise men got to the stable. I always smile at the thought that the wise got there a lot later than the simple shepherds!  Epiphany is the day when “the glory of the Lord shall be revealed”. That phrase may ring a bell: it is the 4^th Movement of Handel’s Messiah. If you know it, stop reading this and sing the tune and the words in your head, or even better listen to it, (as I am doing as I write this – practice what you preach etc).  It is a challenge living our everyday life to lift our eyes to the heavens and for us to see the glory in the beauty around us and for those of faith the additional wonder of God behind it all. It is also a challenge for the church in its services week by week to even catch a glimpse of that glory – but we are called to try!

Whilst writing this, the chorus “And the glory of the Lord” has ended and moved onto the chorus “Unto us a child is born, a son is given” (sing that in your head next!). Handel gets it – the glory of the Lord shall be revealed is intimately linked with unto us a son is born – the first and the twelfth days of Christmas – brought together on one great festival, The Twelve Days of Christmas. I am hoping our Sunday nearest the Epiphany (11.00am, 4^th January) will include these choruses – better than my sermon at revealing the glory of the Lord.

And now (of course!) Handel and I have moved onto the Hallelujah Chorus. Hallelujah indeed!

A Happy New Year to you all

Peter

I am always slightly intrigued that we have made Advent and Christmas such a commercial festival of jingly tunes. The story actually is pretty grim – though, of course (and quite rightly), everyone enjoys seeing a newborn baby. Maybe it is as simple as that.

But other than that, the story is a salutary one – both before and after the main event: an unmarried woman pregnant in C1st Palestine with all the problems that follow, the Dad loyally trusting his girl (“Joseph have you heard/ what Mary says occurred/Yes it may be so/Is it likely – no” – and with thanks to WH Auden for leading us, in those simple words, to the reality of what Joseph and Mary faced), Government bureaucracy involving a long journey on primitive transport (plus ça change), hotels full and a smelly old stable (what did the health and safety report say I wonder?).

And it most certainly does not end there. The church in its infinite wisdom has a special memorial on the day after Christmas – Boxing Day, as we know it, is the day we remember Stephen, the first Christian martyr who was stoned to death for his faith in this small babe born in such harsh circumstances.  And there is more: perhaps the most harrowing day in the church calendar is three days after Christmas – 28^th December (this year a Sunday). The gospel of Matthew tells us when King Herod heard of the birth of Jesus and could not find him, (his earthly parents fleeing to Egypt – so even migrants come into this story), in a fit of megalomania he killed all the children just born in the area to preserve his earthly throne. Tragically, yet again plus ça change. In the church calendar this dark date is known as “The massacre of the Innocents”.  We see it every day – Ukraine, Gaza, Israel, Sudan and, and, and…….

So please forgive this rector for getting a bit cross when people say that faith is an escape from the reality of life and the world. And I have not even got to the distress of Good Friday in the Jesus story.

This is not an attempt to spoil Christmas for us all – and the birth of that babe is a lovely story to be celebrated. I am, actually making the opposite point: because the world, and often our on personal lives, can be very hard and tough. The Christian faith deals with reality, not make believe. It is a faith to help us keep the show on the road, when life is tough and full of grief, as well as helping us celebrate and affirm the many joyful bits. It is a story for our world today – as it has been for 2000 years, which is why we keep, rightly, returning to it.

At our Carol services and at our Midnight Communion service as Christmas Day dawns, this is what we read from St John: “What has come into being in him [Jesus] was life and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

Which is why I want to invite you all, wherever you are in your life and faith journey, come and join us as we celebrate this truth, which faces square on hardship and the pain of our world, while yet being full of hope and confidence in the infinite love of God.

Peter

I try around Remembrance Sunday to read a book about the First or Second World War. This year I picked Ardennes 1944 by Antony Beever. This morning, I read about a battle for one small village. It involved many deaths on both sides and also of Belgian civilians huddled in their cellars. One memory of a 14-year old at the time of the battle was her mother telling all her children to huddle together so that if they were killed, they would know they were not alone. They stayed in their cellar for three days having only old apples to eat.

In addition to reading of the extraordinary every day bravery and resilience of ordinary soldiers and civilians, it is a reminder of the cost of war and, at least in the case of the Second World War, the cost of resisting evil. It should remind us, too, of the reality of war once again in Europe.

Looking back and remembering is firstly about giving thanks for the bravery and determination of so many. There are several “What If?” books written about the other possible outcome of the Second World War – the Gauleiter for London and the South East, the rounding up of a host of people who did not fit in with the new regime. Our freedoms are still based on their bravery and sacrifice.

And there are still many alive whose lives were shaped and made grievous by war – as still happens today whether it be in Ukraine or Russia, Gaza or Israel. It is a time to think of and care for others. Jesus is clear by the way, that we should not only care for our friends, but also our enemies.

Are we, I wonder, thankful enough that we live in this area of the South Downs with its beauty and tranquility? My mother was Belgian and was aged 17 at the outbreak of the war. German troops were billeted in her home. Food for thought, (at least for me!)

And then November is also a time for our personal remembrance. Traditionally, around All Saints Day (1^st November) and All Souls Day (2^nd November) the church has always invited people to think about their ancestors and close family who have died. I often say I am very suspicious or clergy who tell you what is on the other side of the mystery of dying – especially those who seem able to tell you who has gone where – but I do believe when we leave this world, the God of light and love awaits us. That does not, of course, take away grief, but it does take away worry.

I know too that we all have different memories of those most close to us – some full of that light and love, but for others very different memories. Once again Remembrance for many is about thankfulness and at the same time loss, whilst being aware for others it leads to very different emotions.

To end with, one other Remembrance which happens in church whenever Holy Communion is celebrated. We remember “On the night he was betrayed, took bread and gave thanks…”. Remembrance makes past events real in the present. Just take an old photo album down of a holiday 20 years ago, turn the pages and you are back at that earlier moment of time, present and reliving and remembering it. And many have found throughout the ages and in their millions and millions, that particular remembrance gives a richness and a meaning to life.

Peter

What helps us on bad days – that is if you have them, as I do sometimes? As I get older, I find poetry, including some of the great hymns, a help for heart and my feelings. Often both the hymn writer and the history of the hymn are interesting.

A hymn whose words invariably give me a different perspective, at least if I say it slowly to myself, is “Dear Lord and Father of mankind”. It was written by John Greenleaf Whittier, a Quaker American poet and journalist in the C19th. He was one of the leading journalists arguing for the abolition of slavery and had a nationwide reputation before and during the American Civil War arguing for freedom. He lived through turbulent and tough times. He also wrote poetry, his most famous poem being “The song of Hiawatha”.

The words of this hymn are the last stanzas of a long poem called “The Brewing of Soma”. Soma was an intoxicating plant-based juice  – a drug of its day. Like many modern drugs, it caused huge problems to individuals and society. The great majority of the poem deals with the results of becoming soma-dependent. The poem has seventeen verses, but the hymn is only the last six and they give a contrast with a different way of living. This context explains the opening lines of the hymn “Dear Lord and Father of mankind forgive our foolish ways”.

And so, to the hymn itself, (well four of its six verses), which for me both eases the heart and gives me a perspective on our troubled world as well:

Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
Forgive our foolish ways!
Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.

O Sabbath rest by Galilee!
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee
The silence of eternity
Interpreted by love!

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.

Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm.

A prayer for the world, its beauty and our lives. Saying, thinking about and reflecting on these verses does not magically make me feel better, but I often find an edging towards that peace and calm when I think on them.

I am an old-fashioned Anglican priest and believe that a priest is there for all who live in a community, whether or not they visit the church or indeed have a faith. We are all human and trying to make the best of life and to help each other. So, I am always willing to visit anyone, if they want someone just to listen. That may be because life is difficult or painful or sometimes it just defeats us. It may be because something wonderful has happened and there is a celebration. Whatever, a parish priest is there for everyone. And I end with, what is I think a beautiful vison of living, in a line I have referred to before from St Paul in his Letter to the Romans: weep with those who weep and be joyful with those who are joyful.

Peter

In our modern society, on what do we base our views on morality – on right and wrong? It is a question being asked in many places and has arisen again in the light of several recent stories in the media – more particularly in relation to a woman who engaged in many hundreds of liaisons in a single day. Modern liberal moral theory is based on the view that people can do anything they want, as long as they don’t hurt others. And yet somehow many would feel uncomfortable in relation to this story?

Another intriguing example was given in my newspaper the other day: what is wrong with eating a pet after it has died a natural death? My dog Lola may have quite a view on this! Yet who has been hurt if someone does this? However, yet again, something in me, and perhaps in all of us, recoils at this idea and would even do so if I did not have my own dog whom I love. The article gave other examples which quite honestly are not suitable for a community Parish Magazine!

When trying to talk about the Christian basis for morality, I often refer to a verse of St Paul from the last letter he wrote, (whilst he was in captivity), to the Romans. It is Chapter 12 verse 1 where he tells us to treat our bodies like a living sacrifice, a holy and pure temple before God. That interests me because it gives a whole basis not only for how I might try to live, but also how I might try and treat others – if their bodies and persons are like pure and holy temples it leads me profoundly to try and respect them and never use them for my own purposes or desires. This view also, I might say, answers why such things as pornography are wrong. This faith perspective challenges us neither to degrade others or ourselves.

There are of course still a myriad of issues and problems to work out in a faith-based morality – and the challenge here is the opposite to problems associated with “you can do anything you want as long as you don’t hurt others” seen in secular liberalism. The most challenging issue is that you can end up being very judgemental of others. The church has done that in the past. All I can say briefly about that is that, in trying to live in a good way, Jesus in many places tells us NOT to judge others – the chief danger being we end up being hypocrites and will be judged as we judge others.

Yet as a society we do need guidelines and we do great harm to young generations if we do not give them some way of navigating the wild west world of modern technology and relationships in general.

I will end with that picture from the next verse in Romans. I know I do not always live it out in practice (that’s another editorial about knowing we fall short, needing God’s forgiveness and new starts):  but it is a lovely template for life following on from the first verse treating others as holy – like a church or temple and also ourselves.

“Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God – what is good and perfect.”

Peter

This autumn a series of events linked to “Faith in Life” are planned. This is not some course that has dropped into the Rector’s letterbox from on high. It is something very locally-planned for anyone living in our three villages who might be interested.

There is a lot of conversation and media attention at the moment about a renewed interest in the Christian faith. I am not surprised – just look at the world. Despite so many major technological advances, we seem lost – indeed the complexities and possibilities of much modern technology seem to increase the anxiety, bewilderment and often loss of purpose that is now being evidenced.

The brave new world of secular atheism, whilst it should be said rightly challenged much of the complacency, sloppy thinking and sometimes hypocrisy then around in the church, has largely been found to be the emperor’s new clothes. It does not equip us either for modern living or dealing with the problems we face both personally and as societies.

Coincidently after I had drafted this editorial, an article appeared in the Saturday “Credo” section of The Times. Since it says what I am trying to say but better, I thought I would add it in!  “So why are young people returning to Christian faith? I believe it is because of the ‘meaning crisis’ we have been living through. Psychologists coined the phrase to describe a culture that has replaced a communal religious story with an individual and increasingly materialistic approach to life. The resulting secular philosophy of ‘be whatever you want to be’ turbocharged by social media, has left many young people feeling adrift. A plethora of identities and ideologies are on offer, but as our escalating mental health crisis indicates, none of them seem to make us happier. Combined with political turmoil, economic uncertainty and global conflict, a lot of exhausted, distracted and disillusioned people are looking for a better story.”

Faith in Life is an attempt to take seriously the central story of Jesus in a way that gives us hope, healthy growth and a way of living, equipping us and our families for the complexity of modern life.

Faith in Life is not about having to believe a hundred and one weird things before breakfast; nor is it trying to give a one-size-fits-all set of solutions; and nor is it trying to give a series of answers that excludes all others. Rather, it takes science seriously; takes our different personalities and experiences as a strength not a weakness; and it is inclusive.

For families and children, it will have courses based around our Messy Church activities, especially for parents and for children the next group up from Messy Church, (last two years of Primary and first two years of Secondary school).

Then there will be an evening course for adults of four sessions initially at The Rectory to include supper for any who want to see what the Christian faith can offer in our modern world – as well as a morning course. Details of both are at the end of the Rambling Rector. The emphasis in both is on participation and sharing our experiences and views.

The title gives a clue to what this is about. The ambiguity is intentional. How can we have faith – something that gives us hope – in our time on earth?  How can that faith be relevant, helpful and life-giving? The middle tiny word “in” gives a clue. Faith “in” is about trust and relationship. And that points to the centre of Christian faith, Jesus, who says I have come that they may have life, and have it in abundance. It is that claim that Faith in Life will explore. All are welcome.

Peter

I am always moved by the support our Parish Churches receive in our villages. So many people help in a myriad of ways – those who look after the fabric, those who keep our churchyards tidy, those who deliver the magazine, the list goes on. More particularly when the church fundraises, so many people both get involved and give so generously.

There is something very right in this: the church building does not belong to the PCC and certainly not to the rector! It is the village church. All our three churches hold within their walls nearly 1,000 years of faith, sadness and grief, hope and joy. It is as if the church – the oldest building in our villages by hundreds of years – holds past and present together in one place. I often think of that when I sit in any of our churches on my own. In the same way, as I walk through the churchyards, I think of literally everyone who died here over that 1,000 years – and, until the mid C19th, pretty well everyone who lived here was buried in “God’s acre”, (and 99% of them without any memorial).

I am grateful that in our time so many people support our buildings and our fund-raising – in the first half of June alone, both Madehurst with its Dog Show and Slindon with its Fair, show how many put in time, work and money so that we in turn can hand on our buildings and a living church – its people – to future generations.

I hope this is a two-way process: because it should be!  Villagers do all the above for the local church – but a village church in turn should know it is there for everyone. It is not just there for those who come on Sundays. Our churches are intentionally open every day so that anyone can slip inside for a quiet moment.

A parish priest, when they are installed into a church, is told he has “the cure of souls,” (a lovely old-fashioned phrase meaning a care for people on their spiritual journeys) of all who live in the parish. This can be, like all good things, misused by priests thinking they know better and have all the answers! (The older I get the more I know I most certainly don’t know better or have all the answers). We all have our joys, hopes, regrets and failures. In the most profound way, the cure of souls means parish priests, however inadequately they do it, should be there for everyone on their journey.

This is actually enshrined in church law: anyone who lives in a parish has a right to be baptised, married or have their funeral in their village church. Never mind the rector! And rightly so. And again, I am called to pray for everyone in my parishes – I am not as good at praying as many, but I do try to do that.

The church is there for everyone because the faith it has held for that 1,000 years is that God is love and that love is freely available for everyone: truths shown by the life, teaching, death and resurrection of Jesus. However inadequately it sometimes does it, the church’s calling is to be there for everyone and to support them in their journey through life.

RS Thomas has a lovely poem In a Country Church:

To one kneeling down no word came,

Only the wind’s song, saddening the lips

Of the grave saints, rigid in the glass;

Or the dry whisper of unseen wings,

Bats not angels, in the high roof.

Was he balked by silence? He kneeled long,

And saw love in a dark crown

Of thorns blazing, and a winter tree

Golden with fruit of a man’s body.

Peter