Methodist Bishop

The two scripture readings which were chosen to mark the anniversary of the abolition of the British slave trade present us with some problems. The Old Testament passage[1] is an ancient version of the story of the Passover, when God killed all the first-born males of Egypt as a terrible warning to Pharaoh that he must set the people of Israel free. Actually, the passage doesn't quite make it clear whether it was only first-born males who were killed at the Passover, or whether it was first-born males and females, but be that as it may, the people of Israel were told that in future they must set apart all their first-born male animals as offerings to the Lord, and they must redeem their first-born male children and donkeys by offering an animal as a sacrifice instead. Let's overlook the question of why donkeys were so lucky; the passage goes on to recount the fateful moment when the waters of the Red Sea crashed down upon the panicking Egyptian army while it was pursuing t...

The other night we were watching a film about someone trekking across a barren desert in the searing heat of the midday sun. Improbably, at first, he was wearing an overcoat, but he soon got rid of that. After a short time his face was covered with blisters and he could barely walk any longer. He was just like the psalmist, who said, 'M y flesh faints ... as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.' [1] But, at long last, he got the chance to drink some water. And it was then that someone said to him, 'Don't drink too much. It's not good for you!' This reminded me that years ago, when I was about eleven, I read the novel 'King Solomon's Mines' by H Rider Haggard and one of the characters in the novel says something similar. Rider Haggard describes a man who had been so long without water that 'his lips were cracked, and his tongue, which protruded between them, was swollen and blackish.' His rescuer gives him quite a lot of water a...

One of my jobs during the week is fundraising for the local community in Darnall where I work. Darnall is a very disadvantaged neighbourhood in Sheffield. It has lots of good causes which require support, it needs money, it needs plenty of it, and it has never seen its fair share. If I could conjure funding out of thin air I would become a local hero. But, of course, I can't. 'If you are the Son of God,' said the Devil to Jesus, 'Command this stone to become a loaf of bread.' [1] What's so wrong with that? I could certainly do with help from someone who could command sheets of paper to become successful funding bids, or piles of earth to become suitcases filled with crisp new fifty pound notes. Isn't the important thing, how you use the money, not where it comes from? There's a story called 'The Monkey's Paw', written in 1902 by someone called William Wymark Jacobs. An old soldier tells his friends how, while he was serving in India, he ...

Here are some things which people have said when they were asked whether they felt poor compared to everyone else. 'I do feel poor because I can’t see a better future for my kids, and for my nieces and nephews.' 'I hate having to rely on hand-outs.' 'All my kids have asthma and I think the traffic pollution here is to blame.' 'I don’t read or write very well, and I find it difficult to explain what I'm thinking, so it’s hard for me to fill in forms or even to phone up for advice.' 'I often feel a failure as a parent.' 'The system seems designed to crush you once you're down.' 'I found it hard to bother with school – nobody I knew got a job when they left so it didn't seem worth trying.' Do you know anyone who feels that way about some of those things? I'm sure you do. You might even feel the same way yourself, even if you have to substitute the word 'grandchildren' for 'kids'. There are times when...

What did Jesus think his Gospel message was really all about? Fortunately, we don't have to guess, because St Luke gives us Jesus' own manifesto – the text of the sermon which he preached in Nazareth and in which he set out the heart of the Good News that he had come back to proclaim.[1] 'The Spirit of the Lord ... has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.' So that's what Christianity is all about – bringing good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed, and proclaiming the arrival of the year of Jubilee, the year when God's justice will roll down like a mighty torrent and sweep away all that obstructs God's mercy and love. What does the Church do with this message? Often we spiritualise it. 'Yes,' we say, 'It's a message of liberation, but it's about liberating people from sin, saving them from poverty of spirit, opening their eyes to their spiritual blindness, rescuing th...

Why are little children special to Jesus? Not because of their innocence. Even quite small babies quickly learn to be very manipulative. They know just when to cry, when to smile, when to throw a tantrum, and how to go limp all over so that it becomes very difficult to lift them up and put them into a pushchair or sit them up to the table, Nor are little children special because they are humble. Tiny children think they are the centre of the universe – that everything revolves around them and their wants. They expect to eat, sleep, be wakeful and be amused just when it suits them. Sensible and capable parents have to begin, quite early, to teach their children that other people are important, too, otherwise they become spoilt. Nor are little children special because of their openness and trust. Children go through phases. Immediately after birth they are very trusting indeed and will happily go to anyone who is prepared to look after them and make the right soothing noises. But very s...

As so often, this weeks's lectionary chimes uncannily with the news headlines. In the third chapter of his letter, the author of the Epistle of James writes: 'The wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.'[1] Sadly, Pope Benedict has found himself sowing a harvest of trouble for himself, and for other Roman Catholics, because he did not pay enough attention to the need to be seen to avoid partiality and hypocrisy, while showing mercy and gentleness in our assessment of others. In so far as it correctly represents his remarks, I believe the English translation of his recent controversial speech reveals three ways in which the Pope failed to heed the advice of James. (1) He critiqued Islam for being, by implication, less influenced by philosophy and reason than Christianity. In so doing he over-st...

When many of his disciples heard [what Jesus had to say], they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” [1] Anyone who has heard the teaching of Jesus has to sympathise with those first disciples. His words about Holy Communion may no longer have the same power to shock seasoned churchgoers, because it's an established ritual of the Church which many of us share in without any more thought than we would give to a picnic in the park. But, for many people outside the Church, the idea that we can meet Jesus simply by sharing bread and wine is at best ludicrous and at worst a serious stumbling block to faith. I guess it offends them in the sense that it offends against their notion of common sense. Perhaps they would find it easier to accept if they understood that Jesus is not proposing any magical or supernatural change to the bread and wine we share. He is simply promising to be with us, in spirit, as we come together around the communion table. The sharing of holy com...

Over the last few months I have been thinking quite a lot about a poem written by the American poet Robert Frost, which is called 'The Road Less Travelled '. It goes like this: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood And, sorry I could not travel both And be one traveller, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth. Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that, the passing there Had worn them really about the same And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less travelled by, And that has made all the difference. One of the problems with doing two jobs – my day job in the community and the job I...

The Letter to the Ephesians was probably written a considerable time after the death of St Paul. In the meantime he had fallen out of favour and then regained his popularity. People were clamouring for more of his teaching and Christians of long-standing found themselves hunting through their lofts, packing cases and blanket chests, looking for some of St Paul's missing letters which had been circulated long ago around the young churches in his care and then discarded or forgotten. If losing a letter from St Paul sounds sacrilegious or careless then, in fairness, we need to remind ourselves that St Paul never crafted his letters as though he intended them to be kept for posterity. He dictated them, often in great haste, in a kind of shorthand that our careful English translations paper over and conceal. He was addressing immediate problems and often he was writing to people who disagreed with him intensely. Little wonder, then, that some of his letters did not survive, and that oth...

When I was young I was a hit with the girls! So much so that, at age two, I was invited by a little girl to her birthday party. She was about four or five years old at the time, and she made it known to her parents that her idea of a dream party would be to have me come along as her guest of honour, which – because I was cheaper than a magician or a trip to the cinema – I duly did. She was not alone at the party, of course. There was a whole gaggle of her little girls friends in attendance too, and I was the star attraction. For a time they attended to my every whim and found it amusing to follow me around wherever I went, allowing me to do whatever I wanted to do. But then they discovered a snag. I wouldn't settle to anything. If one of them picked up a skipping rope, I wanted to skip. If another one picked up a balloon, I wanted to play with it. If someone had a doll, I must have that doll right now. And after a while – of course – they got tired of me, and I had to be rescued by...