Sunday Worship
This morning's services are at the usual times - 9.15 am at St Agnes' Church and 11 am at St Thomas'.
If you're not able to be with us in person, the Gospel, reflection and prayers are available below.
Today's first hymn is "Do not be Afraid, for I have Redeemed You"
The Gospel
Luke 13: 31-35 Jesus’ Sorrow for Jerusalem
Some Pharisees came and said to Jesus, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you." He said to them, "Go and tell that fox for me, 'Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.' Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, 'Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'"
Reflection
I can remember one really dreadful night when my children were young. A tooth was coming, and she was sleeping very badly. As was I.
I understood perfectly. In her small world, she was in unendurable pain (she didn’t know about the wonders of paracetamol) and she was suffocating (it’s hard to blow the nose of a 1-year-old). So in her anger and frustration at the pain, in her fear and distress at the (she felt) life-threatening danger, she flailed. Oh, how she flailed! She screamed and writhed and twisted and yelled. I picked her up from her cot to comfort her and was rewarded with a long scratch down my cheek from her needle-sharp baby nails. Ouch! Because she was hurting, she hurt me. But it was not meant. She was just tired and angry, and when we’re like that, we flail. We all do it, and for most of us it is not solved by 5ml of Calpol, a bottle of milk and a cuddle. Well, maybe the last one.
I’ve done it myself, too. Before I had my children, I experienced the pain of over a decade of childlessness. Thoughtless hints dropped by well-meaning relatives only worsened the pain. So when a kindly church worker asked me if I wanted to talk about it one day, I pretty much bit her head off.
That’s what Jesus’ lament was about. He looked out over this city that was supposed to be the one place on earth that should have understood; the place when Solomon built a home for God; the place of pilgrimage and prayer – and it was flailing. God’s children were hitting out in anger born of hidden guilt; screaming for the blood of the one sent to save; scratching the face of the caring parent.
Jesus wanted to hold the people. He saw their inner hurts. They were “harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matt 9:36) and needed to receive forgiveness and comfort, “but … would not”. What sad words.
We all do it. We all have bits of anger tucked away inside. For some it is better hidden, for others more obvious. A raw nerve, a subject we avoid, a topic that riles us far beyond what it deserves, flailing when a hidden pain is touched.
God knows that we do it. God knows why we do it. Like a parent with a teething baby, he longs to hold us, to comfort us and to take away the pain that makes us scream at him and writhe out of his hold. If we bring our anger and our hurts to God then there is the possibility of healing and resolution. If we burying them deeply, then they will only continue to fester and gnaw. Fay Rowland courtesy of Reflectionary.org
Our Prayers
Today we end our worship with a special Blessing, sung in Ukranian with subtitles in English. Please do continue to hold the people of Ukraine and all those around the world affected by the war in your prayers.
