Rector's blog

Today we enter into the first full week of Lent; but, to cheer myself up, I like to think of this as the start of week 2.  We have already passed the first Sunday in Lent – only 5 more Sundays to go, and then it will be Easter Day.  But Lent cannot be rushed as a season.  There is a natural modest pace to these weeks.  At times when we are tempted to forsake our Lenten discipline, it will feel time is moving very slowly.  We have to be patient.  I planted a new shrub some months ago, and was delighted to see the first tiny leaves showing themselves over this weekend.  I mustn’t prune the shrub now, or it might die.  Let the plant grow; then prune; then it will flourish.

So perhaps this is a week to be patient.  But I still feel excited about having begun Lent.  I know my disciplines will be hard work to maintain for “40 days”, but new possibilities will open up.  I was much encouraged to hear a consistent message from the pulpits on Ash Wednesday and yesterday – all of which were pointing us towards Easter as the fruit of this current season.  Indeed, Martin gives the same message, in terms of music, as he closes some of the great Lenten hymns by playing the final chord in the major key (rather than the Lenten minor key).

However much we focus on Easter as the ultimate goal, we are not there yet.  There is a helpful analogy which likens our narrative with a Shakespearean 5 act play.  In the human journey with God, Act 1 is about setting the scene, describing the characters, the time of creation.  Act 2 is when things begin to go awry.  Act 3 is the pivotal moment – for Christians, this is the time of the Messiah who initiates the “turn-around”. Act 5 will be the glorious culmination; prophets and seers are able to remind us that God will resolve, redeem and finally settle all troubles – AT THE END.  However, we dwell in Act 4, and need to be patient in letting this Act work itself out.  The dynamics of redemption take time.  We make mistakes if either we see ourselves as dwelling in the end time (Act 5), or if we see ourselves as the ones bringing about redemption (we take on a Messianic role which does not belong to us, but is Christ’s alone in Act 3).

The path up the hillside is usually the path of least gradient, as the sheep, say, have learnt slowly to climb to the top.  We know that this may be a longer walk, but we can arrive at the top, undefeated, not too exhausted and ready to take pleasure in the new view.

So, now is the time to get into our Lenten stride and enjoy week 2.

So Lent begins today: 40 days leading towards Easter of discipline.  All three parts of that phrase are important.

40 days: I’ve never been quite sure which 40 days are included in Lent.  Some say these are all the days between Ash Wednesday and Palm Sunday – and so Holy Week, an important mini season in its own right, is not part of Lent.  Emphasising the special significance of Holy Week is good.  Others say that the 40 days are all the non-Sundays between Ash Wednesday and Easter.  Sundays are excluded as they are by their very nature days of Resurrection.  Actually, I’ve always thought that Lent stretches from today till Easter Day – and not bothered too much about counting 40 exactly.  That seems important because Lent should not be approached with the attitude of box-ticking. If we only count the days until we can resume our bad habits after Easter, then we are so much missing the point.  “40 days” occurs many times in the Bible to signify a significant period that is set apart for God.  The rain causes the flood in the Noah story – a real drenching, like standing under a shower to get well and truly soaked.  I am sure God could have caused the flood in quicker time than that – but the 40 days of rain indicate that God is fully wiping away the sin.  Equally, Moses is on Mount Sinai for 40 days, as is Jesus in the wilderness – writing the Law, preparing for a lifetime of ministry, both take time.  Some things cannot be rushed and need “dwelling time”.

Towards Easter: we dwell in God’s presence for this season so that the roots of new life, promised at Easter, can become well established in our hearts, bodies and souls.  Lent needs to be lived forwards as the season from which we will emerge bearing new hope, confident of living in new ways.  Does your Lenten discipline have that focus this year?

Discipline:  the trainer who ran the Puppy Classes I attended recently said “Bad habits are hard to break; good habits are hard to lose”.  I love that encouragement that, once good habits are truly embedded in our behaviour, they can be very hard to break.  The example I used today in a school assembly was this: imagine that you don’t get on with your younger brother.  Try to love him for one day, and by the end of the next day you will be shouting at him again.  But take on the discipline of bearing with him patiently for 40 days, and you will establish a habit of looking at him in a good light.  Not only will this habit be good in itself, but also you may find that you start really to like him.  We can take on disciplines for one reason, only to find that an unexpected harvest follows.

We should not take the words of some hymns too seriously. Their tunes may be great, but the words, written in a previous age, may not express the truth as we see it now.  I love singing “Once in Royal David’s city”, but I find it hard to sing with complete conviction the lines at the end of verse 3:

Christian children all must be

mild, obedient, good as he.


There’s no point in correcting the words of all hymns which we find objectionable – few would survive, unamended.  We just need to have the attitude that accepts that a hymn which is “a good sing” does not necessarily express accurately and precisely what we believe.

But the opposite happened to me on Sunday evening.  At Evensong, we were singing a 17^thcentury hymn “How shall I sing that majesty”. I love it, partly because the tune we use is so wonderful.  As we began singing it, I knew that a verse refers to us being part of the “celestial choir” (not quite how I see myself), and later asks God to ‘send a sunbeam on me’! But suddenly I found myself singing a line that I had not noticed before – and which conveyed an aspect of the truth that we often miss.  The line is “where heaven is but once begun”.

That is a powerful image: that heaven is something that happens, that begins… and therefore that heaven is something that can grow.  Most images of heaven are of it being “the end of the line”, the place we go after the final judgement.  But this hymn speaks of heaven as an event.  This may be very useful as we approach Lent.  Perhaps we can ponder on what it would be like if we saw Lent as a time for “heaven to begin in me”.  That is not about me being perfect or sinless.  But it is about something beginning afresh in my life that is a space where God, my neighbour and myself are in full harmony.

So poetry can give us unusual words that help us see things differently.  Using the words of this hymn, perhaps a simple prayer for Lent would be “Lord, begin a bit of heaven in me”.

For 15 years I have been walking a dog on Pewley Down.  It’s not my favourite walk – I find that in the Chantries.  But it is the closest open space, and it remains, even after all these years, amazingly beautiful.

Our puppy is still young enough to benefit from, and demand, two walks each day.  So on most mornings, I take her to Pewley Down for 20 minutes. The changing weather makes the walk interesting.  Meeting other dog owners is noteworthy too.  But at times, it becomes rather monotonous doing the 20-minutes circuit. Yet, boredom can be a signal for lack of imagination.  So, today I wandered off my usual track, not quite knowing where I might be heading. A new path opened up, and I saw views that I had not seen before – yet still within the same few acres of Pewley Down.

Benedict urges his monks to be stable, to remain rooted and not to meet boredom with running off after new fancies.  Stability is a tool and a challenge to go deeper.  Our culture is scared of boredom and deals with that fear with unnecessary novelty.  Lent too is a time to be stable.  Yet we may be called to have the courage to stray off our familiar paths, and appreciate afresh what is already part of our lives.

I’ll admit that I was nervous, as in previous years, about the wisdom of allowing the Guildford Shakespeare Company to perform for two weeks inside Holy Trinity Church.  We can cope with the disruption and the dirt that comes from having so many visitors in such a short period.  After all, it’s great to see the church being well used.  We can re-arrange the chairs for Sunday worship; after all, this gives us an opportunity to experience worship slightly differently.  No, my main worry is about whether the words and actions will dis-honour the Church and the God whom we worship.

Well, when I saw the production of Richard the third last night, I was convinced, once again, of how right it is to hear such drama in the context of our church building.  The production is superb.  Yet again, they have brought passion, beauty, insight and energy to a classic Shakespearean text.  There is great emotional honesty: the untrustworthy nature of evil is awful, yet often appears seductive.  But our church building plays its part, providing and excellent backdrop for the terrors of civil war.

The lighting design, in particular, conveys this message: that above all people there is the One who sees all and judges all.  Nothing escapes God’s notice; no actions or intentions can be hidden from God’s understanding.  However much we may want to conceal our base motives and behaviour, we are all “acting” on God’s stage, so there will be a final reckoning.  King Richard tried to avoid that; we try to hide from that, at times.  We delude ourselves if we seek to live outside the backdrop of God’s judgement and mercy.

Watch the show, and see this in action.