Apocalyptic writing is sometimes called the “literature of the dispossessed”. It is the product of a people oppressed and alienated who have little chance of fighting back against those who dominate them with political, economic and military power.Sometimes the oppressors are their own corrupt politicians, sometimes outside ‘foreign’ regimes. And sometimes the stranglehold that our western companies have on their economies and their industries. A stranglehold in which we as consumers, demanding lower prices in the shops, are sadly complicit.And this is should be the goad, the spur for us to reflect upon, and change, our own behaviour, towards each other and within our world. Scripture, and our own eyes, tell us what injustice, cruelty and greed look like, we can also recognize the opposite. So if we say we want to see the Kingdom, and in our prayers we claim that we do, might we not anticipate what the Kingdom might look like, as best we can, and start to behave that way now. And not to wait for others to start, that way the delay is forever, but instead consider our hoped for place in the Kingdom and start to behave as if it were already here, that way, we might have some hope of actually seeing the Kingdom, of catching even catching some glimpses of the way of peace, justice and love, that we claim to desire so much.

Luke’s story of the boastful Pharisee and the repentant tax-collector addresses the theme of what we might call ‘holy reversal’.That the standards of this world, the values of so much of our world, the one with which we are so familiar, in which some of us deem themselves so successful and dominant, are in fact but the shadows of the true reality to which we are called.Up is down and down is up.But what of our present world?Daily on our news we see the Christian faith upended into a cult of greed, pride, hostility and hate – lovers of guns and violence parading Jesus as their hero and guide. But when once we might have at least contented ourselves with the belief that these things happened far away, and in cultures different to our own, now we see, that the sickness has spread rather closer to home, the emergence of enmity and prejudice, no doubt deceiving itself that it is something else.How are we to contend with this challenge both within our world – and within ourselves?

In recent years, we have seen the Christian faith equated with arrogant nationalism, worship of the gun, of money, power and status; and the faith appropriated as an expression of animus and division, prejudice and bigotry. Daily, we can see such distortion and twisting of the faith, so contrary to the teachings of Jesus, that we can only stare bewildered at the mental gymnastics required to turn the carpenter who counselled turning the other cheek, into a belligerent bully.The much-celebrated theologian and Pauline scholar Anglican Bishop Tom Wright once cautioned how first-time visitors to a church might exclaim “Well, if that’s how God’s representatives behave, I suppose the whole thing’s a waste of time!”.In one of the most graphic descriptions of punishment anywhere in the gospels, Jesus warns that it would be better for a millstone to be placed as a collar around the offender’s neck dragging them to the bottom of the ocean, rather than face their rightful punishment for injuring a person’s vulnerable faith, any spiritual comfort that they might have received, negated by the behaviour of the so-called faithful.

‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven’, says the first line of Ecclesiastes chapter 3.Except it seems, when it comes to Advent.Over most adult lifetimes, especially for those of us in later life, we have seen the degradation of the season of Advent, as our modern-world has become increasingly restless, impatient and unable to wait or postpone.Christmas trees now appear in shops, pubs and hotels from mid-November. When I was a child Advent calendars were very exciting, but we had to wait to open the serrated card window each day, to reveal a little picture – and the sense of build-up was real.Today, Advent calendars contain a chocolate for each day, so impatient are we to anticipate Christmas treats.And even in church life, we can become so wrapped up in preparation for Christmas events and services, that even we can ‘no time to stand and stare’. We don’t keep Christmas properly any more – we have forgotten how. Forget the 12 days of Christmas where the feasting was prolonged and enjoyed after a long wait through long winter days – now we are almost in danger of being tired of Christmas, just as it starts.But this is to deprive ourselves of a priceless opportunity.

Whenever this time of year comes around, I make sure to keep two commemorations rather than one. Sadly, many churches across the Church of Ireland will only keep All Saints Sunday and disdain the keeping of All Souls Day which is an ancient part of Allhallowstide – the season of remembering, coming at the end of the year, the dying of the year one might say – before it gives way to Advent – the time of preparing for the new.Perhaps it's a hangover from the past, the fear that it was associated with Purgatory and indulgences, concepts that the Reformers rejected, but also possibly tainted by a certain tendency towards negative self-definition – we don’t do it – because they do.But at ‘All Souls’ we remember people who are not particularly famous, nor were they necessarily examples to many, but we lovingly remember those who are so inextricably linked with us that they may well have been amongst the most important influences in our lives.Few of us have ever been spared the pain of loss, sometimes repeatedly. And at ‘All Souls’ we can especially remember that this is a burden of human mortality that each one of us carries, one that we should not and need not carry alone.And then at All Saints the memories are not so personal, so visceral, but nevertheless we honour heroes of the Christian faith.This combined season of All Hallows, this time of remembering, reminds us not only of those who have gone before us, in all their infinite variety, the famous and the obscure, the virtuous and the sinful, but that we also are in the business of building souls – our own.

With the aftermath of the Second World War a new ‘rules-based order’ was pioneered overseen by international organisations such as the UN, the World Bank, the IMF, the International Court of Justice, the EU and the World Health Organisation. They embodied the desire that shared notions of justice, the rule of international law, and the recognition of our interdependence through peaceful trade, would protect humanity from the horror of global war in the future. Albeit multi-cultural and secular organisations, in their depths the echo of recognisably Christian voices resounded.What has been deeply troubling, in the space of only a few years, has been the rapid erosion of that consensus, not only by the most despotic and cruel regimes of the world, but also by certain politicians, certain parties and certain democratic governments greedy for short-term political advantage and personal enrichment.A combination of the cynical, the unscrupulous, the calculating and the downright corrupt, preying on the minds of the vulnerable, the gullible and the easily led – where hundreds of years of progress through struggle, and courageous self-sacrifice are in danger of being swept away by a wave of populism, fear of a fast changing world, nationalism, racism and the promises of material comfort as long as people hand over their freedom and autonomy. We have been truly fortunate to be a generation or two that have lived in comparative stability, affluence and tranquility – at least close to home, and we have accepted them as a given.Following the so-called summit in Alaska, between two men of despicable stamp, the next few weeks and months may well present us with the most severe test of our courage and resolve that we have faced. if we are not prepared to sacrifice our effort, our whole-hearted commitment and our money to the single-minded pursuit of international justice and equity now, we shall have to sacrifice our sons and daughters tomorrow.Will we, and our leaders, be up to the challenge?

We all know, much as we push the thought away, that our own lives are finite.  But also, most of us thankfully, do not know the day or the hour of our ending. But the downside of that is that sometimes we can act as if we have all the time in the world.

All too easily our lives drift along, lots of activity, but sometimes little change. Plenty of tasks and busyness, but if we are not careful those can simply be external distractions, we can really be drifting, simply marking time and avoiding the internal work that is required.

Part of the problem is that we can get to a place in life that may not be the most comfortable, the most at ease with ourselves and our lives that we could be, but at least it is comfortable enough, or even uncomfortable, but not enough for us to risk shaking it all up and making changes, and who knows in any case what the new life would look like?

And this failing is not just in the life of faith, but in every life; for in reality there is no continual oasis of normality to return to, no state of perpetual tranquility to be reclaimed – all lives are in reality, in a perpetual state of flux, of challenge and testing.

Possessions had and still have a profoundly symbolic function for humanity. If life feels fragile and precarious we seem to think that possessions will render it more secure; even though the possessions themselves are even frailer than life itself. 

Whilst the rich man in the parable of the rich fool was supposedly rich in goods, his soul was impoverished. His purse was full, but his heart a desert.

By contrast, Jesus calls us respond in faith and loving trust; and manage our goods, be they many or few, in accordance with that faith. We are to share what we have, and who we are with others, rather than indulge some insatiable need to accumulate.

It is the insatiable, pathological pursuit of wealth, the desire to merely possess, deaf to those in need, and the suffering in our world, that represents the true poverty of heart and soul.

The early church was itself puzzled by the Spirit, and unable to make much in the way of theological sense of this area of doctrine. And even today the Holy Spirit is an area fraught with competing interpretations.  

So, what is the Holy Spirit? How might we recognize it? 

How might our lives be touched, shaped and directed by the Spirit? 

Where do we start to take on the awesome responsibility of discerning quite where the Spirit may be leading us?

And when we pray, if we pray, do we really understand what we are praying for – and what we should be praying for?

And how do we even begin to defeat hate, cruelty and indifference, not only in our world, but also within our own hearts?

Jesus staying with Mary and Martha is another story told only by Luke, and it continues a theme that is clearly dear to him. The breaking of cultural and religious boundaries and a declaration of radical acceptance and inclusion.

And, of course, the story is not really about doing the dishes, and it's not really about Martha and Mary – but about us.

In our lives, what do we place first – keeping busy, getting lots of things done, perhaps keeping even intentionally distracted by the mundane and unchallenging, convincing ourselves that we are working hard, or getting on with the real task, the real and more difficult work of our lives?

Isn’t it so easy – just to juggle our lives away?

Tensions have always been intrinsic to the Christian Church, think of the controversies surrounding slavery, race, divorce, women’s role in the church, one could go on.On the one hand there are those, like Peter, who believe the Church should have boundaries and borders, acting like a fortress, which can only care for and protect those within, by defining, identifying and excluding those who are without. That the old ways need to resist the challenge of the new, if not forever, then certainly for as long as possible – church as a perpetual rearguard action – holding back the winds of change and compromise – fidelity to the past.On the other hand, the modern counterparts of Paul, who believe that the Truth the Church professes can only be so if it is universal; that to be the Good News, it must, of necessity, be so for all.That the central revelation of Christianity is that all notions of tribalism, social, ethnic and gender distinction were swept away, by the life, teaching, ministry, and new life in Jesus.Could we not learn from the example of Peter and Paul? After all they too believed they were fighting for the future of the Church, and their visions were very different indeed.Each would come to pursue their own mission, their own calling, trusting that Providence would, in time, resolve any inconsistencies, reservations and doubts that they might harbour.They had neither a shared policy, nor shared theology, but simply a mutually recognised commitment that each would serve the Gospel, as best he could, in his own way, and what the Holy Spirit would bless, it would bless.

In the story of the Gadarene swine we encounter a man, afflicted and tormented by forces beyond his control.In terrible mental anguish, ostracised by his own people, driven from their midst, he now lives like a wounded wild animal, naked, dehumanised.And not just then, we know that any oppressed minority today, who endure overt and covert discrimination suffer higher levels of mental illness, stroke, heart disease, even certain cancers, and a whole ‘host’ of other disorders linked to social injustice and abuse.We are challenged to question who we continue to reject, and push to the margins, who we demonise. Certainly, the poor, the disabled, those who mentally ill, and LGBTQIA+ people, continue to feel other, less than and marginalised, sadly even, sometimes especially within our churches. And what does that say about the sickness of ourselves and the systems we devise and protect?

There is a familiar expression that someone has a ‘bright’ idea or a ‘lightbulb moment’. Or that someone’s performance was ‘electrifying’, or the atmosphere in the theatre was ‘electric’ - We can have a ‘burning desire to succeed’, or we can have a ‘blazing row’, emotions can become ‘inflamed’, and someone can have a ‘fiery temper’, or a ‘burning hatred’. We might compliment a performer by saying there were ‘on fire’ last night.The Pentecost story is perhaps, hopefully, one of the most obvious and uncontentious employments of metaphor in scripture – but from it we can draw a wider lesson – that we do ourselves, our world, and the original writers of scripture a terrible disservice, if we cannot allow their use of metaphor to enrich, colour and deepen our understanding, and instead insist upon simply a literal surface level reading of the stories that they strived for so long to craft and create.So, what is at the heart of Pentecost? What is significant, of prime importance for us?

Let’s be honest, have you ever liked or respected someone who said to you ‘You are either for me or against me’?Usually, the words of a bully, certainly those of limited wisdom and imagination. Especially if those words are backed up with threat and intimidation. But, this duality of thinking, right or wrong, good or bad, in or out, is all too pervasive throughout history and human psychology to this day. Economists and mathematical game theorists call this type of thinking the zero-sum game, in which each participant's gain (or loss) is exactly balanced by the losses (or gains) of the other participant(s).In other words, if someone is to win, then someone has to lose.You can find people who embrace these false dichotomies, and there are a lot of them, in politics, in the White House, in everyday life, in theology.This is not at all how I see Jesus, or the divine reality that inspired him. This not the God I believe in, or the type of church that I believe we should build.Instead, we should strive to create a community where all are welcome, all are valued, all are loved for who and what they are, without reserve and without limit.

A Bishop was once reported in the press to have commented that the resurrection was about a ‘conjuring trick with old bones’. Bishop David Jenkins was branded the ‘unbelieving Bishop’ and the satirical TV puppet show ‘Spitting Image’ even had a sketch of him persuading God to become an atheist.That misquote of the Bishop has cascaded down through the years, following him wherever he went – the problem is – he never said it.In fact, what the Bishop of Durham had said was that the resurrection is ‘so much more than a conjuring trick with old bones’ an entirely different statement.Because Bishop David was trying to get us to focus on the meaning, the significance of the resurrection, on the transformation of the disciples and the growth of the Christian community, and potentially of ourselves, rather than obsessing about overly literal interpretations of the experience of Jesus, real or embellished, after his death.The secret to practising resurrection is in letting go of the artificial self, the person we pretend to be, the masks we wear, the possessions that trap us and giving ourselves to something greater than ourselves.The Jewish theologian Martin Buber tells the story of an ageing pious man, Rabbi Susya, who became fearful as his life drew to a close. His friends chided him saying “What! Are you afraid that you’ll be reproached for not being Moses” “No,” the rabbi replied. “That I was not truly myself”.

I cannot stand unfairness and injustice.Today, not only as Chair of Changing Attitude Ireland, but also simply as someone who abhors unfairness, I see this all too clearly in the treatment of LGBTQ people within our church. Within most churches.Of course, there are those who for one reason or another disapprove of, denigrate and discriminate against the LGBTQ community and will cite scripture or tradition, with varying degrees of casuistry and equivocation to justify their fears and prejudices. I find little to defend the variety of their arguments, but at least one knows where one stands. But what I find indefensible are those who affect to sympathise, who acknowledge the injustice, who declare themselves committed to the righting of the wrong, to securing justice for those discriminated against – but not yet. Essentially throwing a minority under the bus for some spurious and entirely illusory sense of church unity.Of course, it is usually the defenceless and the voiceless who are sacrificed so blithely, sacrifices are rarely required of those who have influence and power.But justice only for some, is really justice for none. If any organisation, and especially the church, tolerates injustice towards the few, then it is an unjust community. Its claims to show love, acceptance and compassion are meaningless unless they extend to all.And to knowingly practice injustice, just for the sake of church politics and pragmatism is even worse than prejudice and bigotry – for at least the intolerant own their opinions. But to be unjust, knowing it to be wrong, continuing anyway, for some supposed ulterior goal, is the worst kind of hypocrisy and mendacity.There can be no place for it in our church and in our lives.

I wonder, not only about the first Easter, but especially the Easters that soon followed, those of the first and second centuries, when Christianity was still so new, so radical and relatively untouched by the worlds of wealth and power. And the people who spoke of themselves as following ‘the Way’.We now live through a time when Christianity seems under threat as never before, at least in the West, and there is an emerging generation who regard, often rightly, some of its past beliefs and prejudices as socially and morally toxic.So, is it still possible to speak of new life and new hope? Is resurrection still a story we can tell?In fact, I believe that there are signs that the Christian faith has still very much to say to our world and to help shape the future of mankind. But it requires us to look to ‘The Way’ once again, to prioritise not what we claim to believe, but what we do, how we act, how we live out Jesus’ great commandments of love.

It was a widespread belief of Jesus’ time that suffering and misfortune were a sign of God’s displeasure and punishment, that they were somehow earned and deserved.Let’s be frank, we can even fall prey to the same superstitious beliefs today, where adversity and affliction can all too easily be labelled as the consequences of such phrases as ‘poor choices’ or ‘unhealthy lifestyle’ – at least by those who lead privileged lives.But two thousand years ago, Jesus was warning about this erroneous connection between good fortune and virtue, and misfortune and vice.Sometimes, mostly, suffering is random, undeserved, not the consequences of our guilt or complicity and conversely, good fortune and advantage in life is rarely distributed equitably.Especially it seems in American and Western politics, no question more reliably divides conservatives from liberals, than the element of luck in economic success.But in recent years, social scientists have discovered that sheer chance actually plays a much larger role in important life outcomes than most people imagine, or we are comfortable acknowledging.This, of course, should engender our compassion for those who suffer, and greater humility in our privilege – but I wonder, in reality, if it does?

Christians are called upon to be honest with God, and most of all honest with ourselves. We are called to account, to face what needs to be faced, to confront that which we have avoided and from which we shrink.

To show humility, acceptance of the errors we have made, the sins we have committed, the debts that we owe.

The feast of St Patrick is a day on which the thoughts of many turn to Ireland, perhaps especially for those with family ties and links to this land – the isle of saints and scholars – a place of great beauty, so many wonderful people, and a place of many tears.

And for me raised in England, of Irish ancestry, now living back in Ireland – it brings to mind a disconnect between those two countries, that remains to this day, because of past unacknowledged and unrepented sins. I speak of an Gorta Mór or the ‘Great Hunger’ – known incorrectly and reprehensibly in the UK as the ‘potato famine’.

The need for repentance is as true for nations as it is for individuals, because old sins cast very long shadows, shadows that can overcast and hide much that is good, because sins that are unacknowledged and unrepented do not heal, they only fester – as much, if not more, for the perpetrator as the victim.

Dictators and brutes throughout history have somehow convinced themselves that their violence and inhumanity will secure them power. That fear and intimidation, the force of arms will win the day. And all too sadly there seem to be no end of those who are willing to be their creatures.

Today we see the willing capitulation and self-subjugation of those who so want to be in positions of supposed power and wealth, that they are willing to abase themselves, to deny reality itself if they are told to do so, to pretend to convictions they do not have and a loyalty that they do not possess.

And while they may enjoy some temporary advantage, in the end they only achieve their own undoing, as they sew the very seeds of their destruction, as hubris and arrogance, greed and selfishness is confronted and confounded by the quiet dignity and courage of those who are willing to sacrifice themselves for a better way and a better world.

As we live through these times of mendacity, extortion, venality and toxic narcissism, where it feels as if the leadership of the world has been handed over to psychopaths and gangsters, we can reflect that in the story of the temptation in the desert, all that evil could offer, can ever offer, was and is the victory of the moment, the glory of the fleeting instant, but at the price of the destruction of those who suppose themselves to be the conqueror – but are in fact the conquered.