Click/tap this link for our latest news update:Continuing our journey into Lent - International Women's Day
Dear friends,Just a Round Robin with a copy of my sermon from Ash Wednesday and to say that you're very welcome, if you’re able, to join us tomorrow at Lealholm (9 am), Grosmont (10:45 am) or Glaisdale (6 pm).On Easter Saturday, 4th April, Bishop Barry will be joining us at a special Easter Vigil at 8 pm at St Hilda’s in Whitby where there will be the opportunity to Confirm or Re-Confirm our faith in Jesus. If you haven’t been Confirmed and would like to find out more, we are doing some preparation during Lent. Just reply to this message and I will send you further information. If you were Confirmed a while ago and would like to rediscover your faith more deeply during Lent, you would be most welcome to explore with us too. Again, just get in touch.With love and blessings,Reverend AnthonyAsh Wednesday SermonThe journey into Lent beginsPreacher: Reverend AnthonyPsalm 51Have mercy on me, O God, in your great goodness; according to the abundance of your compassion blot out my offences.Wash me thoroughly from my wickedness and cleanse me from my sin.For I acknowledge my faults and my sin is ever before me.Against you only have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight,So that you are justified in your sentence and righteous in your judgement.I have been wicked even from my birth, a sinner when my mother conceived me.Behold, you desire truth deep within me and shall make me understand wisdom in the depths of my heart.Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean; wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.Make me hear of joy and gladness, that the bones you have broken may rejoice.Turn your face from my sins and blot out all my misdeeds.Make me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.Cast me not away from your presence and take not your holy spirit from me.Give me again the joy of your salvation and sustain me with your gracious spirit;Then shall I teach your ways to the wicked and sinners shall return to you.Deliver me from my guilt, O God, the God of my salvation, and my tongue shall sing of your righteousness.O Lord, open my lips and my mouth shall proclaim your praise.For you desire no sacrifice, else I would give it; you take no delight in burnt offerings.The sacrifice of God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.2 Corinthians 5.20b–6.10So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.As we work together with him, we urge you also not to accept the grace of God in vain. For he says,‘At an acceptable time I have listened to you,and on a day of salvation I have helped you.’See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation!We are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labours, sleepless nights, hunger; by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; in honour and dishonour, in ill repute and good repute. We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see—we are alive; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.John 8.1–11After Jesus went to the Mount of Olives, early in the morning he came again to the temple. All the people came to him and he sat down and began to teach them.The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery; and making her stand before all of them, they said to him, ‘Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?’ They said this to test him, so that they might have some charge to bring against him.Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, ‘Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.’ And once again he bent down and wrote on the ground.When they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the elders; and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus straightened up and said to her, ‘Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?’ She said, ‘No one, sir.’And Jesus said, ‘Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.’SermonMay the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts together be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our rock, and redeemer. Amen.Let’s begin with a simple, quiet prayer. Just for a few seconds: Lord, show each of us what you want to speak to us about this afternoon. Amen.In our Gospel reading, everything begins in a very ordinary way. Early in the morning Jesus comes back to the temple. People gather. He sits down and begins to teach. It’s calm. It’s settled. It’s a place where you might expect wisdom, not spectacle.And then the scribes and the Pharisees turn it into a drama. They bring a woman caught in adultery, and they make her stand in front of everyone. They don’t bring her because they care about holiness. John tells us they are testing Jesus, trying to trap him, trying to manufacture a charge against him. She becomes a prop. Her shame becomes their weapon.So let me ask, gently, as we sit with this story this afternoon: where do you find yourself in it?In the crowd, watching?Carrying a stone?Feeling exposed?Standing close to Jesus?That question matters, because the story isn’t only about “them”. It is about the human heart, and the ways we handle guilt, and judgement, and mercy.Then comes the moment I want to sit with on this Ash Wednesday. Under pressure, under interrogation, Jesus does something unusual, something quite counter-cultural.He bends down and writes with his finger on the ground. What was Jesus writing in the sand?John doesn’t tell us, and perhaps that’s deliberate. Perhaps the Holy Spirit wants us to ponder it, rather than pin it down. So take a moment. What do you think Jesus might have been writing?Maybe he wrote a commandment, to remind them that the law was given to lead people into life, not to provide an excuse for cruelty.Maybe he wrote their sins, not to humiliate them, but to get them to think more deeply.Maybe he wrote her name, as if to say: this is a person, not a case, not a cautionary tale.Maybe he wrote a single word: mercy.And if that is what Jesus might have written then, what word might Jesus write for you this afternoon? Not about somebody else. About you. If you can, hold a word or a phrase in your mind for a moment, and don’t rush past it.Let’s pause for a moment.There’s something else that matters here. Jesus doesn’t respond to the shouting with more shouting. He refuses the rush to judgement. He slows the whole moment down. He makes space.What helps you slow down enough to be honest with God?Some people slow down in silence. Some by walking. Some by reading Scripture slowly. Some by lighting a candle and letting the day settle. Ash Wednesday itself is a kind of slowing down. It is the Church saying: stop. Breathe. Tell the truth. Return to God.When they keep questioning him, Jesus straightens up and says: “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.”That line has been used so often that it can sound like a slogan. But in the moment it’s a turning point. It takes the focus off the woman for a second, and places it back where it belongs: on the hearts of those who are so sure they’re right.Grasp hold of an imaginary stone in your hand. Imagine yourself holding on to it tightly. If we’re honest, stones are not only for other people. Church folk can get very skilled at carrying polished stones. Not always obvious, sometimes carried quietly in our pockets.What stones are easy to carry?The stone of judgement. The stone of old resentment. The stone of rehearsing someone else’s failures. The stone of being sharper with ourselves than we would ever be with anyone else.If you’re willing, unclench your hand for a moment. Let that simple movement be a prayer: Lord, I’m putting the stone down.Then Jesus bends down again, and writes again on the ground. He stays low. He stays close to the dust. He doesn’t stand over anyone. He doesn’t loom. He doesn’t humiliate. He stays near the place where human beings actually live.That is Ash Wednesday, isn’t it? Dust and mercy in the same place?One by one, they go away. Beginning with the elders. And then it’s just Jesus and the woman, standing there. And Jesus asks her: “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”She says: “No one, sir.”And Jesus says: “Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.”Here is the heart of the Gospel in three short sentences. Jesus doesn’t deny sin. He doesn’t call wrong “right”. But he refuses condemnation. He offers mercy, and then he opens a new future.So let me ask two questions, and let them land where they need to land.Where do you most need to hear Jesus say: “Neither do I condemn you”?And what might “from now on” look like for you as Lent begins? Not a grand performance. Not a dramatic reinvention. Just one small step. One honest prayer. One habit to loosen. One apology to make. One act of kindness. One turning back towards God.This is also why Lent is such a fitting time for anyone exploring baptism or confirmation. It’s not about being sorted. It is about belonging to Jesus, and letting his mercy and his truth shape our life.A question for all of us here today: if you were preparing for confirmation, what question would you want to bring into that preparation?You don’t need to say it aloud. Just name it to God.Lent is a journey, a pilgrimage over the next 40 days. On Holy Saturday night we’ll gather for the Easter Vigil at St Hilda’s in Whitby, where there will be confirmations from across the deanery. The Church tells the story from darkness to light, and we watch God give new beginnings.And on Easter Sunday, Bishop Barry will be with us in Lealholm. A reminder that we’re part of something bigger, and God is still raising people to new life.So between this afternoon’s ashes and Easter’s light, what do you hope God might change in you?We don’t know what Jesus wrote in the sand. But we do know what he does. He stops the cruelty. He tells the truth. He gives mercy. He opens a future.As the ash is marked this afternoon, let it be our prayer: Lord Jesus, write mercy in us. Write truth in us. Write a new beginning in each of us. Amen.
The Last Sunday before LentTheme: The TransfigurationPreacher: Reverend AnthonyNew Testament Reading: 2 Peter 1.16–endFor we did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty. For he received honour and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, ‘This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain.So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.First of all you must understand this, that no prophecy of scripture is a matter of one’s own interpretation, because no prophecy ever came by human will, but men and women moved by the Holy Spirit spoke from God.Gospel Reading: Matthew 17.1–9Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.’While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.’ And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, ‘Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.’SermonMay the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts together be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our rock, and redeemer. Amen.I might have told some of you that I like hill walking.The first mountain I ever climbed was Coniston Old Man, when I joined the fell walking club in Sixth Form. I can still picture the day: the steady pull of the path, the wind that makes you feel properly awake, and that moment when you finally get enough height for the world to open out in front of you.Back then, I used to think of myself as an atheist. I wouldn’t have called what I felt on that summit “God”. I would have said it was the scenery, the exhilaration, the sense of perspective, and the relief of reaching the top.But looking back, with a bit more honesty and a bit more gratitude, I can see it differently. That first mountaintop experience was doing something in me. It was quietly drawing me towards God, even when I didn’t have the words for it. Something about height and light and wide horizons was already teaching me that life is bigger than I can manage, and richer than I can explain.And I suspect that rings true for many people, whether they would describe themselves as believers, half-believers, or not sure at all.Something shifts in you on a mountain.It might be the view. It might be the silence. It might be the effort it takes to keep putting one foot in front of the other. But high places have always done something to people. They help life look different. They help you see what matters. They can even help you feel small in a healthy way, not crushed, but put back in your place within God’s wide, generous world.In the Bible, mountains are often places where God meets people in a particular way.Moses goes up a mountain and comes down changed. Prophets pray in high places. Jesus teaches on hillsides. And today, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a high mountain, and something happens that they will never forget.Matthew tells us that Jesus was transfigured before them.His face shone like the sun. His clothes became dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear, talking with him. Then the cloud comes, and the voice from the cloud says, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”That last bit matters. Listen to him.Peter, as ever, wants to do something practical. “It is good for us to be here… I will make three dwellings.” It’s a very human response. When something holy happens, the instinct is to hold on to it. To keep it safe. To build something around it. To make it stay.But the voice doesn’t say, “Build him a tent.”The voice says, “Listen to him.”And notice the disciples’ reaction. They fall to the ground and are overcome by fear.Then Jesus comes to them, touches them, and says, “Get up and do not be afraid.”That is the shape of this day.Glory, then fear, then the gentle touch of Jesus, then the words we need more often than we admit: do not be afraid.And then, crucially, they come down the mountain.Because you can’t live up there.You can’t stay in the bright moment, the clear moment, the moment where everything seems certain and close and shining.Sooner or later you come down. Back to ordinary life. Back to the questions, the responsibilities, the aches, the griefs, the things that don’t make sense, the things that need doing.That is why Transfiguration Sunday sits where it does.Right on the edge of Lent.It’s as if the Church says: before the long walk to Jerusalem, before the hard honesty of Lent, before the cross comes into view, come up the mountain for a moment.Not to escape life, but to see Jesus clearly.Not to avoid the path, but to be strengthened for it.Our second reading from 2 Peter helps us here, because it speaks about this mountain moment in a very grounded way.Peter says, “We did not follow cleverly devised myths… we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty.”He’s looking back. He’s remembering. He’s saying: this was real. We heard the voice. We saw the glory. We didn’t imagine it.And then he gives us an image for what it means to live after the mountain, when you’re back in the valleys.He says, “You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.”A lamp in a dark place.Not a floodlight. Not permanent daylight. Not certainty about everything.Just enough light to take the next step.That’s a very Lent-shaped image.Because Lent isn’t about proving how tough or impressive faith is.Lent is about walking with Jesus with a bit more honesty than usual.It’s about letting the lamp shine on what is really going on inside us.The habits that have grown up without us noticing.The grudges we keep warm.The distractions that keep us from prayer.The ways we avoid other people, or avoid ourselves, or avoid God.And Lent is also about allowing Jesus to touch us, as he touched those frightened disciples, and to say again: get up; do not be afraid.So how do we “listen to him” as we head into Lent?Start small. Keep it real.Listening to Jesus can mean taking five minutes a day with a Gospel story, reading it slowly, and asking, “What is Jesus saying here? What is he asking of me?”Listening can mean a simple prayer that doesn’t try to sound clever: “Lord Jesus, I’m here. Help me. Show me the next step.”Listening can mean making space for silence, even if it feels awkward at first. Because so much of our noise is not just outside us, it’s inside us.Listening can mean a gentle act of repentance that is more than saying sorry, it’s turning round. Choosing a different way. Making peace where peace is possible. Telling the truth where the truth is overdue. Seeking help where pride has kept you stuck.And listening can also mean receiving what God says about Jesus, and therefore what God says about you.“This is my Son, the Beloved… listen to him.”If Jesus is beloved, and you are joined to him by faith, then you are not disposable. You are not forgotten. You are not beyond hope. You are not alone in the hard parts of life.There’s also a quiet detail at the end of the Gospel reading.As they come down the mountain, Jesus tells them not to speak about what they’ve seen “until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”In other words: the transfiguration only makes full sense in the light of Easter.Glory is real, but it’s not the whole story.The shining face is real, but it’s not the whole story.The whole story includes a hard road, a cross, a tomb, and then resurrection.So today gives us a gift to carry into Lent.A clear glimpse of who Jesus is.A reminder that faith is not built on “cleverly devised myths”, but on a living Lord who meets real people.A lamp for dark places.And a hand on the shoulder when fear takes hold.So as Lent approaches, don’t aim for perfection.Aim for attentiveness.Aim to listen.Take the next step, in the light you have been given.And when you feel the familiar fears rise, hear Jesus say it again, with that same calm authority and kindness:Get up.Do not be afraid.Amen.
