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‘Give me a drink.’

The words of Jesus to the woman at the well in our Gospel reading this Sunday have a particular resonance for us at the moment, as, in line with our Archbishops’ advice on the coronavirus, water has been removed from our font and water stoup, and we will no longer be receiving the wine at Communion.

One of the most significant trends that shapes life in the modern world is a sense of radical interiority: modern people try to find their true selves by turning inwards to reflect upon themselves. Therefore many people will see Lent as a time for interiority: going inward to discover themselves anew.

Painted meditations on the Passion of Christ

The astonishing series of thirteen paintings by Nicholas Mynheer called The Sarum Cycle is now on display around the ambulatory starting from the South doors. As painted meditations on the Passion of Christ, they are well worth spending time with and perhaps revisiting over the coming weeks. They will be on display for the whole of Lent, as we journey together on our pilgrimage with Jesus on the way that led him to the Cross. And they will stay at least into the beginning of Eastertide, because the Cycle ends with the women discovering the Empty Tomb and finally the risen Jesus appearing by the sea to his fishermen disciples.

‘Thanks for posing,’ is not a remark I hear every day, but Neil Pugmire (Diocesan Communications Adviser) did say this to me last Thursday! He had been taking some photographs to be posted on-line during Lent to illustrate actions in support of the Bishop’s Lenten Appeal 2020: ‘Care for God’s Creation’. Earlier Neil and I had agreed that he would only photograph actions that were authentic, in the sense that they reflect what I will actually be doing during Lent in response to the ‘An Action a Day’ activities identified on the diocesan website. So yes, amongst other things I will be supporting ‘Meat Free Mondays’, and using my bike rather than the car.

‘You are the salt of the earth’ says Jesus to his disciples in our Gospel reading today, ‘but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled underfoot’. For his modern-day disciples, Jesus’s words are still laden with the qualities which salt brings to our lives. It is distinctive, and yet it also brings out the best in whatever is salted. It is astringent, an uncomfortable but effective cleanser. It is necessary, for our health and our life. And in water, it lowers the freezing point and raises the boiling point, widening the range over which it stays liquid.

Light

Last month, Cathedral Consort, went on a tour to Lapland. They sang a concert and at a Sunday service that was part of the celebrations to welcome the first sunrise after two months of a polar night. They were fortunate to see the Northern Lights in deep tones of blue and green. In the summer they will have a period of no sunset. Both of these must play havoc with your equilibrium.

Next week the United Kingdom will leave the European Union. This will be a significant moment for our nation: some will be pleased that the Referendum result has been honoured, others will regard it as a sad and misguided step for the nation. Regardless of your perspective, Leave or Remain, we will all collectively face the same challenges together over the next decade.

We celebrate today the feast of the Baptism of Christ within the season of Epiphany: God’s glory is revealed as Jesus is baptised and shown to be the beloved Son, as God’s glory was also revealed to the Magi who came to worship the infant Christ, and later at the wedding at Cana when the water was turned to wine – foreshadowing every occasion when poverty is turned to riches and sorrow into joy.

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus’ conception is described from the perspective of Joseph. We learn nothing of the conversation he had with Mary on hearing the disturbing news of her pregnancy, and that he is not the father. Rather we learn of the honourable way Joseph intends to act, and then of a revelatory dream, in which an angel tells him that Jesus is the product of a new divine action, in line with a prophecy of Isaiah. The significance of a ‘virgin birth’ is that Jesus will be more than the accumulated best of his ancestors; he will be a unique manifestation of the power of God.

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus’ conception is described from the perspective of Joseph. We learn nothing of the conversation he had with Mary on hearing the disturbing news of her pregnancy, and that he is not the father. Rather we learn of the honourable way Joseph intends to act, and then of a revelatory dream, in which an angel tells him that Jesus is the product of a new divine action, in line with a prophecy of Isaiah. The significance of a ‘virgin birth’ is that Jesus will be more than the accumulated best of his ancestors; he will be a unique manifestation of the power of God.

In between me writing these highlights and you reading it on paper or online, we will know the results of the general election. It seems strange to be talking about something that hasn’t happened yet. It’s like shouting at the top of your voice in the wilderness waiting to hear an echo.

The second Sunday of Advent is traditionally the time when the church thinks of prophets and prophecy. In the week of the General Election, it feels like we are living somewhere in between Isaiah’s prophecy and vision of an ideal society in Isaiah 11, and John the Baptist’s condemnation of the self-satisfied and complacent – in his case that applied to the religious authorities in Matthew 3.