God’s Beloved Flock Spring is making an attack on winter with the now lighter mornings and drawn out evenings, something I always rejoice at as we are in the middle of lambing and it makes it so much easier and cheerier having light. This year with 103 ewes scanned in lamb we were set for a busy time. It is always a time of waiting and watching, with excitement and anticipation knowing there will be the amazing success stories of lambs being adopted to other mothers and little ones making it against all the odds, but as with all things there are also the sad stories of loss. Lambing is a time of reflection as we spend more time than usual looking at the sheep and really paying attention to their characters. When the sheep are in the fields I find it difficult to see many distinguishing features between one sheep and the next but when in the barn at lambing time you really get to know them and their individual characters. Jesus says of Himself that He is the Good Shepherd and that He knows His sheep (John 10:14). God, who created all things and each person and each sheep, knows each one by name. How incredible it is that God knows the intimate details of all that He has created! In Psalm 139 David says; “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb… I am fearfully and wonderfully made” So we can have confidence in a God who knows us and treasures each one of us, knowing our individual personalities, gifts, strengths and weaknesses, and being able to tell us apart from everything else He has created.As we come to the end of lambing for 2024 we have had the stories of loss and others of success but above all we have been privileged enough to have witnessed creation at its best. We now watch the lambs play out in the field with their huge skips of joy and the comfort that we are their shepherds just as Jesus was a special baby sent from God to be a loving shepherd to look after us…. And out of love He laid down his life for every one of us, his beloved sheep. God bless Reverend Emma
Palm Sunday 2024 What does it feel like to have less than a week to live?That’s the situation in which Jesus finds himself when he makes his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, which we remember today, as we give out our palm crosses.Holy Week, which begins today, is our opportunity to immerse ourselves in this move from the shallow joy of Palm Sunday, a joy that is centred around expectations of power and reward, through the pain of finding that our faith is often so weak when Jesus needs us the most, finally to the deep and profound joy of the day of Resurrection, the day of forgiveness and new life. We have the opportunity to walk with Jesus in real time as the hourglass runs out, as he struggles with the knowledge that he has less than a week to live.And it is a struggle. In the gospel for Monday in Holy Week, Jesus has his last meal at the home of his dear friends Mary, Martha and Lazarus. Jesus and Lazarus never got to say goodbye to each other when Lazarus was dying. Jesus heard that he was sick, but stayed away. They’re back in the same situation again. One of them is about to die, but this time Jesus doesn’t stay away. Maybe he wanted to do more than say goodbye. Maybe Jesus needed to see Lazarus alive, talking and eating and laughing. Maybe his human side needed to reaffirm the evidence of his own eyes that someone can die and come back to life.At their dinner together, Mary anoints his feet with costly ointment, and Judas berates her for not using her money to help the poor. Jesus’ defence of her reveals how heavily his approaching death is on his mind. “Leave her alone. She bought [the ointment] so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”On Tuesday of Holy Week, Jesus’ struggle with his approaching death continues. John’s gospel tells us that Jesus says, “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say – ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.” We can feel the conflict in Jesus’ soul, his divine conviction of what he has to do, warring with his human fear.The gospel for Wednesday in Holy Week takes the spiritual crisis to the next level. For the first time, Jesus addresses not just death but betrayal. The gospel tells us, “At supper with his friends, Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, ‘Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.’” The reason betrayal hurts so much is because it has to come from someone you know and love. A stranger cannot betray you. Someone who hates you and always has, cannot betray you. And the only thing worse than being betrayed is being the betrayer ourselves, finding out that we are not the people we thought we were.By Friday morning we have lost complete control of the situation. Having slid into the role of betrayer in a haze of confusion and fear, we suddenly find ourselves stumbling along with the crowds toward Golgotha hoping we are not recognized by anyone as one of Jesus’ followers. There is a numb sense of disbelief as we watch him being nailed to the cross. As every minute passes, we are certain that this is the moment Jesus will unleash the power within him, the power we have seen again and again heal people from illnesses, allow him to walk on water, feed 5,000 with a few loaves and fish. Each second we’re sure now, now is when he will stop this cruel drama, come down from the cross and save himself.But nothing happens. Jesus simply lets his life bleed away, one agonizing moment at a time, growing weaker and weaker until he seems to prove that he’s given up on himself and on God the Father. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” he cries. This is the moment that we think the other disciples who hid away during the crucifixion absolutely had the right idea. Staring up at him on the cross, we realize that Jesus is actually going to die right in front of us. He cries out, takes his last breath, and the unthinkable moment comes to pass.The gospel says, “At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.” At that moment our souls are torn in two. At that moment the living love between God the Father and the incarnate Jesus Christ is torn in two. At that moment the disciples’ hope for the defeat of Rome and the rule of Jesus on earth is torn in two.This is the terrible risk that we take, by committing to walk with Jesus through Holy Week, that our hearts will be torn in two by this experience.But Jesus’ life and our emotional equilibrium are not the only things destroyed on Good Friday. The barrier between God and humanity is torn in two. The record of our sin is torn in two. The reign of death is torn in two. And finally the shroud of our grief and fear is torn in two by the joy of the resurrection. If we are willing not to skip from Palm Sunday to Easter Day, not to avoid the darkness that stains these upcoming days, but to enter into it with Jesus and stand in solidarity with him, the healing that we experience with his resurrection is twice as deep.Today we make a choice. We can choose to be present with Jesus as his disciples throughout this week, confronting the ways in which we betray him, loving him as we see him struggle for the courage to endure his death, or we can hide away, unwilling to let our composure be torn in two with the temple curtain.The only tools we need are the scriptures and open hearts to make this journey with Jesus.Like Jesus, our fear, our sin, our grief and our illusions about ourselves have less than a week to live. Let’s spend that week with Jesus. Amen