Reflection: The Letter or the Spirit? (11th Mar, 2026, Year A)

Readings

Deuteronomy 4.1, 5–9 – So now, Israel, give heed to the statutes and ordinances that I am teaching you to observe, so that you may live to enter and occupy the land that the Lord, the God of your ancestors, is giving you. See, just as the Lord my God has charged me, I now teach you statutes and ordinances for you to observe in the land that you are about to enter and occupy. You must observe them diligently, for this will show your wisdom and discernment to the peoples, who, when they hear all these statutes, will say, ‘Surely this great nation is a wise and discerning people!’ For what other great nation has a god so near to it as the Lord our God is whenever we call to him? And what other great nation has statutes and ordinances as just as this entire law that I am setting before you today? But take care and watch yourselves closely, so as neither to forget the things that your eyes have seen nor to let them slip from your mind all the days of your life; make them known to your children and your children’s children.

Matthew 5.17–19 – ‘Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfil. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.

Reflection

In our readings this morning, we hear two voices speaking across the centuries: Moses, standing with Israel on the edge of the promised land, and Jesus, seated on the hillside in Galilee. Both speak about the law of God — not as a burden, but as a gift; not as a constraint, but as a way of life.

In Deuteronomy, Moses urges the people: “You must neither add anything to what I command you nor take away anything from it, but keep the commandments of the Lord your God.” His concern is not legalism for its own sake. Rather, he sees the law as something entrusted to Israel for their flourishing. The law shapes a people who live wisely and justly. It forms a community whose life together becomes a witness to the nations: “Surely this great nation is a wise and discerning people.”

But Moses also knows how easily memory fades. So he urges them: “Take care and watch yourselves closely, so as neither to forget the things that your eyes have seen nor to let them slip from your mind.” The commandments are not only to be obeyed; they are to be remembered, told, and lived; passed on from generation to generation as a living tradition of faithfulness.

When we turn to the Gospel, we hear Jesus addressing a similar concern. Some have begun to wonder whether his teaching sets aside the law. But Jesus is clear: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfil.”

To fulfil the law is not simply to reinforce it, nor merely to interpret it more strictly. Rather, in Jesus the law reaches its true depth and purpose. For him, the law is not just about outward observance but about the transformation of the heart. Later in this same sermon, he will show what that fulfilment looks like: anger reconciled into peace, lust transformed into faithfulness, retaliation answered with mercy, enemies met with love.

In this way, Jesus draws us beyond the question of how little we can do and still remain faithful. Instead, he invites us to ask how deeply the life of God might take root within us.

There is, I think, a gentle challenge here for us. In the Church, we sometimes fall into one of two temptations. Either we treat God’s commandments as restrictive — something to be loosened or explained away — or we treat them as ends in themselves, measuring faithfulness by outward conformity alone. But both Moses and Jesus call us somewhere deeper.

The law, rightly understood, is relational. It is about belonging to God and living in ways that reflect God’s character. The commandments teach us what love looks like in practice; love of God, love of neighbour, love expressed in justice, mercy, and faithfulness.

And perhaps this speaks especially to us in Lent, a season in which we attend more carefully to our discipleship. Lent is not about grim self-improvement or anxious rule-keeping. It is about returning; returning to the God whose ways are life, whose commandments are given not to constrain us but to draw us more fully into communion with him.

So Moses’ words remain for us today: “Take care and watch yourselves closely.” Remember what God has done. Hold fast to what God has taught. And teach these things; not only with our words, but with our lives.

For in Christ, the law is no longer something written only on tablets of stone. It is written on human hearts. And as we follow him, we discover that God’s commandments are not heavy burdens, but signs pointing us towards the fullness of life God longs to give.

Amen.

Reflection: In Face of Opposition (4th Mar, 2026, Year A)

Readings

Jeremiah 18.18–20 – Then they said, ‘Come, let us make plots against Jeremiah—for instruction shall not perish from the priest, nor counsel from the wise, nor the word from the prophet. Come, let us bring charges against him, and let us not heed any of his words.’ Give heed to me, O Lord, and listen to what my adversaries say! Is evil a recompense for good? Yet they have dug a pit for my life. Remember how I stood before you to speak good for them, to turn away your wrath from them.

Matthew 20.17–28 – While Jesus was going up to Jerusalem, he took the twelve disciples aside by themselves, and said to them on the way, ‘See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified; and on the third day he will be raised.’ Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee came to him with her sons, and kneeling before him, she asked a favour of him. And he said to her, ‘What do you want?’ She said to him, ‘Declare that these two sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.’ But Jesus answered, ‘You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?’ They said to him, ‘We are able.’ He said to them, ‘You will indeed drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left, this is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.’ When the ten heard it, they were angry with the two brothers. But Jesus called them to him and said, ‘You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.’

Reflection

In our reading from Jeremiah, we overhear something deeply uncomfortable. The prophet has spoken God’s truth, and the response is not gratitude but plotting. “Come, let us make plots against Jeremiah.” They dismiss his words, question his credibility, and then seek to silence him. Jeremiah’s anguish is palpable. He turns to God not with polite piety but with raw honesty: “Remember how I stood before you to speak good for them.” He had prayed for these very people; he had interceded for them. And now they repay him with hostility.

It is a lonely place to stand — faithful, but misunderstood; obedient, but opposed.

When we turn to the Gospel, we find Jesus walking that same road. Matthew tells us that Jesus takes the Twelve aside and speaks plainly: he will be handed over, mocked, flogged, and crucified. Unlike Jeremiah, he does not speak of possible plots — he speaks of what will certainly happen. The rejection is not a risk; it is the path.

And yet, astonishingly, immediately after this solemn prediction, the mother of James and John comes with a request. She wants honour for her sons — seats at Jesus’ right and left in his glory. The other disciples are indignant, perhaps because they share the same ambition. It is a jarring contrast. Jesus speaks of suffering; they dream of status. He speaks of a cross; they imagine thrones.

But perhaps we should not judge them too quickly. We too can be tempted to follow Christ while quietly holding onto our own expectations of recognition, security, or influence. We may accept the language of service, yet still hope for reward.

Jesus’ response reframes everything: “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them… It will not be so among you.” In his kingdom, greatness is not measured by prominence but by service; not by power held over others but by life poured out for others.

“The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” There is the heart of it. Jesus does not merely teach about service — he embodies it. His journey to Jerusalem is not a tragic accident; it is an act of self-giving love. Where Jeremiah prays for his persecutors, Jesus will go further still: he will forgive them from the cross.

And so the two readings speak to one another. Jeremiah stands faithful in the face of opposition, praying for those who seek his harm. Jesus walks knowingly toward rejection, redefining glory as sacrificial love.

For us, in this season of Lent, these texts invite reflection. Where are we being called to quiet faithfulness, even if it is unnoticed or misunderstood? Where might our ambitions need reshaping in the light of Christ’s servant-hearted kingdom? And where might we be called not only to endure hurt, but to respond with prayer and grace?

The Christian life is not a climb to prominence but a descent into love — the love that serves, that forgives, that gives itself away. That is the way of Christ. And it is the way that leads, paradoxically, not to diminishment, but to true life.

Amen.

Friday Thought, St. Hild College, 16th September, 2022

I am in my final year of training for ordination at St. Hild College in Yorkshire. When the college gathers for residential weekends at the Community of the Resurrection in Mirfield, it is traditional that a student offers a “Friday Thought” during the first time of Evening Prayer the college shares together that weekend.

On Friday, 16th September, the college community gathered for it’s first residential weekend of the new academic year and, this time, it was my turn to offer the Friday Thought. The three readings from Scripture that I chose for Evening Prayer were Isaiah 43:1-7, Romans 12:3-8 and Matthew 20:20-28. The text of the thought I shared follows.

Jesus Washes Peter’s Feet by Sieger Köder

“I declare before you all, that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great imperial family to which we all belong.”

The words of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, spoken to the nation and to the world on her 21st birthday in 1947. Words that have been shared many times over the course of the Queen’s reign, and of course have been shared many more times in the days since her death at the age of 96. Hers was a long life, as it turned out.

I wonder if the Queen was nervous before giving her speech. Perhaps in the way we might all be feeling some nerves as we join the family of St.Hild for the first time, or embark on our next or final year of study and formation in this place. Even though she was being prepared for public life for much of her life, the Queen’s eventual accession to the throne was unexpectedly swift. I can’t help but feel that even that most steadfast of monarchs must have felt just the odd twinge of anxiousness.

Fortunately for the Queen, and for us as some of the many millions of people she dedicated her life of service to, we know that she had a deep faith in something beyond herself and her own strength. As she publicly professed many times, she had faith in God and saw Jesus Christ as her ultimate guide and inspiration as she sought to live out the life of a servant-leader.

The readings from Scripture that we’ve heard this evening, from Isaiah, Paul’s letter to the Romans, and the Gospel of Matthew, I think all speak to aspects of the Queen’s life and to the life of all of us at St. Hild College as we embark on this new year together.

In Isaiah we hear about how God called the people of Israel by name to their life and vocation as the people of God, and of all that he would do for them as they grew into that vocation. Of course, God didn’t promise that the vocation would be easy, but God did – and still does – promise that even though we walk through fire we shall not be consumed by it.

In Paul’s letter to the Romans, we hear something pertinent about how to live well in community and relationship with one another, recognising and valuing diversity and the different gifts that we all bring and should share in service of one another as we grow together and help form and be formed by one another. Note to self: We also hear how we should leave our egos at the door and not think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think.

In Matthew’s Gospel we hear Jesus challenge the ego of the two sons of Zebedee, James and John, and perhaps their mother, as she asks Jesus to ensure that her sons will sit at his right hand and left in the Kingdom. Jesus draws all three of them back to God with gently worded but profound challenge, before going on to declare that whoever wishes to be great among you, must be your servant, just as the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve.

Whether Royalist or Republican, or any nuanced position in between, I think we might all agree that Queen Elizabeth lived out her faith and her own God-given vocation; that as imperfect as we all are as human beings, and as deeply problematic as the reality of Empire was, the Queen took every opportunity she could to encourage living well together in community and relationship; and that in her public declaration in 1947 and her life beyond it, she certainly lived up to her promise to serve us all, because ultimately, first and foremost, she was serving God. In that way, perhaps, she was and can continue to be an inspiration to us all.

So, as we embark upon this weekend together, our anxiousness and imposter syndrome may be real. Have faith. God has called us all by name. We may be challenged by the things we hear, see and feel as part of this college family. Have faith, diversity and learning to live well together as people called to ministry will be challenging, but a good and healthy thing. We may at times seek reward or greater security on our journey with God. Have faith, let’s all check our egos at the door, for we are all here not to be served, but to serve.

In serving God and one another, may we all have a blessed and fruitful year. Amen.