Sermon for Easter 5, 3rd May 2026

In these days when ordained clergy are so few and far between, you may be asked, or perhaps have been asked, whether your church has a priest. And in answer you may have said “Yes” but qualified your answer by saying that you have to share him with another parish. And that would almost certainly be the kind of answer that person was looking for. But another way you could deal with that question is to ask the one asking it to qualify the question. Are they talking about ordained clergy, or about the general priesthood of all believers? Because if they mean the former, Yes, one that you have to share but, if they mean the latter, your church, this church, has as many priests as it has people. And those priests are you.  

This is an understanding of the Church that we find in quite a few places in the New Testament, and one of them is in this morning’s Epistle when St Peter tells his readers,  

‘…you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.’ 

We can get further insight into just what this means if we read it together with something St Paul writes in his Letter to the Romans: 

‘I appeal to you therefore … to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.’  

So to be the holy priesthood we’re called to be means to offer ourselves, body and spirit, to God, through Christ. It means to conform ourselves to Christ, because Jesus’ whole life was an offering of himself in God’s service. As Jesus himself says in this morning’s Gospel,  

“Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do…” 

But we mustn’t reduce this to something that’s merely functional. While priesthood in a sense, is about what we do, it’s much more about who and what we are. If, for example, we do the kind of good works that Christ did, but do them for our own glory, or because we think we’ll benefit from them in some way, far from serving God through Christ, we’re really using Christ to serve ourselves and that is not the way of Christ, and it is not priestly service.  

But what is priestly service? What is a priest? All Christian priesthood, whether that’s the general priesthood of all believers or the particular priesthood of the ordained must be rooted in the priesthood and priestly service of Christ, and it must mirror the priesthood and priestly service of Christ. So if we want to know what Christian priesthood is like, what our priesthood must be like, we have to look at Christ’s priesthood.  

Christ, like all priests were, and are, called to do, served God and his neighbour, and he did that in various priestly ways. He was a teacher. He was a man of prayer. He was a pastor. He led worship. And he offered sacrifices on behalf of the people. And these are all things that we are called to do as Christians are they not. We’re called to teach by proclaiming the Gospel. We’re called to pray. We’re called to be pastors by caring for the sick and needy. Our call to lead worship is nuanced because the Church reserves certain things to the ordained priesthood, but we can all lead our brothers and sisters in worship in some ways. We can read lessons, lead intercessions, lead singing, we know that this is something Jesus did. And we can offer sacrifices too. We can offer ourselves as those ‘living sacrifices ‘ St Paul speaks of. Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross, of course, was made once and for all so we can’t offer that sacrifice again, but we do plead Christ’s own sacrifice on the Cross at every Mass, every Eucharist, and in that way we’re enabled to take part in Christ’s sacrifice and share in it. So in all these ways we are a priesthood because we share in the priesthood of Christ. But I must add something here.  

Some denominations of the Church have used the idea of the general priesthood of all believers to deny the need for an ordained priesthood. But the vast majority of the Church haven’t done that . The majority of the Church, including the Church of England, obviously, still call people from the general priesthood of all believers to be set apart as ordained priests. 

The orders of ordained clergy we have now developed in the first century of the Church’s history, but the roots do go back to the very early Church. In the New Testament we find people being selected for leadership from among congregations and hands being laid on them to formally approve and sanctify their choice. So the case for calling people out to be ordained is a sound one. But what we mustn’t do is completely separate the ordained priesthood from the general priesthood of all believers. 

And unfortunately, this has happened many times, and in more ways than one! On the one hand there’s sacerdotalism, a belief that the ordained are a distinct priestly class, over and above the laity. And I once heard that expressed in very simple terms when a priest once told me that,  

“The business of the laity is to turn up, pay up, and shut up!”   

But on the other hand, some lay people seem to have seen the existence of an ordained priesthood as absolving them from anything that we might call general priestly responsibility. And I’ve heard this expressed in simple terms too. Someone at a parish I once worshipped at was once asked if he’d be interested in coming to Bible study classes if the vicar ran them. His answer was,  

“Whadda we wanna to study t’Bible for? That’s what t’vicar’s paid to do innit?”  

Both of these ways of understanding priesthood are wrong. The ordained priesthood may be called from the general priesthood of all believers, but they are still part of that general priesthood and can’t exist without it. But the existence of an ordained priesthood in no way absolves the lay person from responsibility for fulfilling their own calling and service as part of the general priesthood of all believers.  

In his book, The Christian Priest Today, the then Archbishop of Canterbury, Michael Ramsey, summed up the relationship between Jesus, priesthood and people in this way; 

‘…the ordained priest evokes and serves the ministry of the people of God, and he sees so many of the laity eager to serve and to lead. While he is called to bring the expertise and the authority of his ordination into this scene, he knows that the expertise and authority are rooted in the humility of Christ.’  

That was written over 50 years ago, but I think it is very much in line with what the Church is asking of us today. For the ordained priest to be an enabler, to evoke, to stir up, the people of God to lead and to serve. To fulfil their own vocation as part of the general priesthood of all believers. To be built up into the spiritual house and holy priesthood we are all called to be. And to do this not for their own glory, or for brownie points, but humbly in the name of Christ and to the glory of God. I must ask though, 54 years after Archbishop Ramsey wrote those words, how many are eager to lead and to serve today?  

In an even earlier book, Ministerial Priesthood, written in 1897, but still considered a classic work on an Anglican understanding of priesthood, the author, R.C.Moberley, wrote that the office of ministerial priesthood, that is, ordained priesthood, is the consummation of the priestly office. By that he didn’t mean that the ordained priest is the ultimate of what a Christian priest should be, and I don’t know any priest who thinks that they are the ultimate expression of that, but that in the ordained priest, all that belongs to the whole Body of Christ, comes together and is focussed. The teaching, the prayer, the pastoral work, the leading of worship, and the offering of the Eucharistic sacrifice are all visible in the office of the ordained priest. But this is a representation of what belongs to the whole Body of Christ. Because in due measure these things belong to each individual member of the Body. And Moberley urges us not to be taken in by appearances; priesthood is not about what we do but about who and want we are, the spiritual reality that lies behind what we do and makes what we do real rather than simply empty ritual.  

And that is something that applies not just to the ordained priest but to each and every member of the Church. To look at themselves and perhaps ask themselves, Why am I doing this? Why am I not doing that? What could I do, what can I do, to fulfil my calling as part of the general priesthood of all believers? To ask, in what ways to I need to be built up so that I can make the words I heard from Jesus in this morning’s Gospel personal, to me: 

“Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do…” 

Amen.  


Propers for Easter 5, 3rd Sunday 2026

Entrance Antiphon 

O sing a new song to the Lord, 
for he has worked wonders; 
in the sight of the nations 
he has shown his deliverance, alleluia. 

The Collect 

Almighty ever-living God, 
constantly accomplish the Paschal Mystery within us, 
that those you were pleased to make new in Holy Baptism 
may, under your protective care, bear much fruit 
and come to the joys of life eternal. 
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, 
God, for ever and ever. 

Amen. 

The Readings 
Acts 6:1-7  
Psalm 33:1-2, 4-5, 18-19 
1 Peter 2:4-9 
John 14:1-12 

Prayer after Communion 

Graciously be present to your people, we pray, O Lord, 
and lead those you have imbued with heavenly mysteries 
to pass from former ways to newness of life. 
Through Christ our Lord. 

Amen. 

Sermon for Easter 4, 26th April 2026

For me, one of the great joys of parish ministry has always been having the opportunity to go into schools and lead what’s now known as Collective Worship, or school assemblies as most of us will know them. One great thing about doing this, is that it gives me the opportunity to speak about the Christian faith to children who never come to church, but it’s also very helpful to me because children ask lots of questions, difficult questions at times, and they expect answers. And you can’t give them any old answer, you have to give them an answer that makes sense to them, and that’s not always easy when you’re dealing with a group of children aged from 4 to 11 years. And in the context of a 15 minute ‘slot’ that has to include time for prayer and song, you have to give them an answer there and then. So these things are very good for helping you to think on your feet.  

I’ve been fortunate enough to have had these opportunities for all of my stipendiary ministry, so I’m quite used to doing this now. But nothing stays the same for ever and SIAMS, the body that inspects Church Schools have come up with a new way of thinking about how Collective Worship is done. Schools are going to be assessed on this, and so all those who lead school worship will have to use it. It’s something called Windows, Mirrors and Doors. The idea is that we look through a window to learn about something. We look in a mirror to reflect on what this means to us and for us. And then we go through a door to do something about it.   

To a large extent, this is something we try to do in school worship anyway, but now it has to be done in a more formal way. But if we think about Windows, Mirrors and Doors as a concept, isn’t this something we’re all called to do as disciples of Christ anyway? Aren’t we called to look at the world around us, reflect on what this means for us and to us in the light of our faith, and then go out and do something about it by proclaiming the Gospel and sharing the love and light of Christ with those around us? All this falls under the scope of the Great Commandment and Great Commission does it not? But do we really apply Windows, Mirrors and Doors in our lives?  

Perhaps we do to some extent. I hope we all look through windows and reflect in mirrors on what we see through the windows, but I think perhaps where many people fall down is in then going out through the doors. And I think the reason people are often reluctant to go through the door is fear.  

When we look through the window at the world around us, we can see a very frightening scene. We all know what’s going on in the world at the moment and it is both terrible and frightening. And when we look at what we see in the mirror of our faith, we must see that what is going on is wrong and something needs to be done to change the state of the world. But, as I’ve said in the past, there’s not much we can do to influence world events. It’s unlikely that we, as individuals, can influence events at a national level either, though that’s not impossible as the Northern Ireland Women’s Coalition, the ‘Peace People’ who did so much to end ‘The Troubles’ in Northern Ireland showed. It certainly doesn’t mean that we can’t do something about what’s going on closer to home, in our own communities and neighbourhoods, in our churches. But what seems to be stopping people is fear.  

So often I’ve heard people talk about problems. They’ve seen that there is a problem. They know that something needs to be done about it. But they stop short of becoming directly involved in trying to find a solution. They know people need help, but they stop short of actually offering that help, personally. And it’s usually fear that holds them back. Fear of becoming involved in someone else’s problems. Fear of becoming involved in something that, in the end,  they are not in control of.  

That fear is expressed in various ways. I’ve tried to get Pastoral Visiting Teams together in parishes, but no one has been willing to visit those in need because they “Don’t want to interfere”. But, as Christians, which would you rather be seen as, interfering or uncaring? I’ve tried to get teams together to visit bereaved families after funerals. Not as Bereavement Visitors but just to call on them and see how they’re getting on. But again, people have been unwilling to do that because, they say, that will just “bring back bad memories”. Well, if a bereaved person is not thinking about their departed loved one anyway, a week or so after a funeral, there’s something very wrong. And I’ve had the same response when I’ve asked if anyone would be willing to send cards to the Next of Kin on the anniversary of a death: “No, it will just bring back bad memories”. Again,  I ask you, are you not thinking about your departed loved ones anyway on the anniversary of their death?  And of course there’s that perennial problem of people being unwilling to help out in and for the church because they “Don’t have time”. But how many people who have said that, can always find time to do other things when they want to. Fear. Fear of getting involved because people don’t know where or to what it might lead.  

Sometimes when I’ve spoken about these things in the past, people have said to me,  

“Well it’s all right for you; you get paid to do this kind of stuff; we don’t”. 

Actually, I, and many other Christians I know and have known, have done this kind of stuff without being paid because we’ve seen it as part of our calling as disciples of Christ. But be that as it may, I will tell you something about me. Immediately before I went to theological college, I worked in the timber treatment industry. My salary then was far more than a vicar’s stipend. If we adjust for inflation, the equivalent of about £45k in today’s money. I’d been offered a promotion that would have taken my salary to nearly £57k in today’s money. And I gave that up to go to college as a student on a grant because it was what I felt called to do. I’d looked through the window, reflected in a mirror, and that was the door I chose to open and walk through. I knew it might be hard, and at times it has been, but I wasn’t afraid to do it. When I, and others like me, ask people to become more involved in what the Church is doing, and more proactive in living out their faith, we’re not asking people to make that kind of sacrifice. So what are people afraid of?  

I started by speaking about Windows, Mirrors and Doors, so let’s return to that now. Look through the window and see this morning’s readings. St Peter, on the day of Pentecost, less than two months after Jesus had been crucified, going out in public to confront those who’d put Jesus to death and proclaim that,  

“…God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.” 

The Psalm which proclaims,  

‘Though I should walk in the valley of the shadow of death, no evil would I fear, for you (the Lord) are with me.’ 

In the Epistle, St Peter again, urging the faithful to persevere in doing good, even if we have to suffer for it, because this is Christ’s example and the example we are called to follow. And in the Gospel, the assurance from Jesus’ own lips that if we are faithful, sheep of his flock, if we hear his voice and follow him, he will lead us to abundant life. So what do we see through this window but an exhortation not to be afraid because, whatever happens, the Lord is with us and if we can only follow him and his example we will have abundant, eternal life.  

But turning to the mirror, what do we see there? What does this mean to us and for us? Does what we’ve seen through the window this morning inspire us to follow Christ’s example? When we look in the mirror, who do we see looking back at us? Do we see someone who is willing to do that or do we see someone who is still afraid to follow where Christ is calling us to go?  

And as we go to the door, are we prepared to open the door, walk through it and follow in the footsteps of Christ? That’s not easy to do because, in one sense, it’s a road of uncertainty, because we can never know for certain where and to what this road will lead us to in life. But, in another sense, it’s the most certain road we can ever walk because we have the Lord’s assurance that we won’t walk this road alone, he will walk it with us and, at the end of the road, he will be there to welcome us into eternal life.  
Amen. 


Propers for the 4th Sunday of Easter, 26th April 2026

Entrance Antiphon 
The merciful love of the Lord fills the earth; 
by the word of the Lord the heavens were made, alleluia. 

The Collect 
Almighty ever-living God, 
lead us to a share in the joys of heaven, 
so that the humble flock may reach 
where the brave Shepherd has gone before. 
Who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, 
God, for ever and ever. 
Amen. 

The Readings 
Acts 2:14, 36-41  
Psalm 23 
1 Peter 2:20-25 
John 10:1-10 

Prayer after Communion  
Look upon your flock, kind Shepherd, 
and be pleased to settle in eternal pastures 
the sheep you have redeemed 
by the Precious Blood of your Son. 
Who lives and reigns for ever and ever. 
Amen. 

Sermon for the 3rd Sunday of Easter

We’ve just heard what must be one of the best-known post-Resurrection Gospel stories in the whole of the Gospel, the story of the risen Jesus’ appearance to two disciples on the road to Emmaus. As well as being a very well-known part of the Gospel, this story is also a very important one. Usually, when people discuss this story, the focus is placed towards the end of the story and the two disciples recognising Jesus in the breaking of the bread. So this is very often read as a story about the Eucharist and about the need to recognise Jesus in the sacrament of Holy Communion. But while that is a very important part of the story, there are other elements of the story which are also of great importance to us both as individual Christians, as a local worshipping community, and as a Church.

First of all, lets recap the story and draw out a few of these important elements.

It’s the day of the Resurrection and two disciples are making their way from Jerusalem to Emmaus. They’d already heard that, in spite of what had happened just a few days earlier, Jesus was alive and they don’t know what to make of it. Suddenly, a stranger comes along and starts asking them what they’re talking about. They think there must be something wrong with this guy because he doesn’t know about what’s been going on in Jerusalem concerning Jesus. But, when they tell him, this stranger tells them that they’re fools; they might know what’s happened over the last few days, but they obviously don’t understand why it had happened. And so he starts to explain things to them. And they’re so engrossed in what he’s saying, and no doubt eager to hear more, that when they get to Emmaus, they ask him to stay and eat with them. And it’s only then, when this stranger breaks the bread that they recognise that he is actually, Jesus. Jesus disappears but they rush back to Jerusalem to share their story with others of their group.

It’s a wonderful story but it’s also a story with great meaning. In addition to the Eucharistic elements towards the end, this is a story about people coming to understanding and a deeper faith. We’re told of the two disciples that ‘Their eyes were opened’. As Jesus explains the Scriptures to them, they begin to understand the meaning of his death and Resurrection, to see why these things that had happened in Jerusalem had to take place, and how they fit into God’s plan of salvation. And they share their story and new found understanding with others, and by doing that, they begin to build up a community of faith.

But let’s put ourselves in the shoes of those two disciples on the road to Emmaus and consider how we might react in the same situation. If we were discussing some matter of faith and a stranger came along and asked us what we were talking about, would we be open to their question and tell them, or would we look at them with some suspicion, perhaps even ask what it had to do with them? If then, that person clearly didn’t seem to know something which we thought ought to be common knowledge, would we take the trouble to explain, or would we dismiss them as some kind of idiot who wasn’t worth talking to? If we did explain and that person then said we were fools, would we be prepared to listen to them explain why we were fools, or would we be offended get on our high horse and tell them to ‘take a hike’ or words to that effect? Would we think, or even ask, who this person thinks they are? Would we think, or even tell, this person that they’re not even one of us? Would we then think, or even tell, this person that we know what we’re talking about and think, or ask them, what do they know about it? And even if we were prepared to listen to what this know all had to say, how long would we be prepared to listen? Would we be prepared to invite them to join us for a meal and stay the night with us, or would we say something along the lines of,

“This is where we have to leave you, bye.”

And think,

“Thank goodness we’ve got rid of them.”

We might like to think that we’d react in the way those two disciples did, but if we’re honest, don’t we far more often react in exactly the way I’ve just described? We might think that those two disciples were speaking to Jesus, and we wouldn’t be. But they didn’t know that at the time, and anyway, aren’t we called to see Jesus in all people, so how do we know that the stranger who walks and talks with us isn’t Jesus, or someone sent to us by Jesus? And this is a particularly pertinent question when it comes to our dealings with other people in the Church.

I’ve been a communicant member of the Church since 1981. I’ve been in ordained ministry for over 20 years. And in all those years, and in all the parishes in which I’ve worshipped and served, one thing I’ve found people to be extraordinarily bad at, is sharing their faith, even with other Christians. And yet, this is essential to building up the Church.

So many people in the Church think in terms of ‘us’ and ‘them’ rather than in the ‘we’ that Christ himself calls us to do. We can never truly know what’s in a person’s mind, of course, so we can’t say exactly what people think, but judging by their words and actions, so many people in the Church seem to think that the ‘Church’ extends little, if any, further than the walls of the building they meet in to worship. Some people seem to want to restrict it even further by applying it only to those who do things in a certain way, their way. I’ve lost count of the number of times, for example, that I’ve heard people say,

“We don’t do that here!”

And whether the ‘that’ in question is right and proper according to the teachings of Christ and the tradition of the Church is irrelevant. The attitude seems to be one of, this isn’t our way so we’re not doing it.

But how much growth in faith and understanding do people miss out on because of this kind of attitude? How many opportunities to build up the Church, both locally and more widely, are missed because of this kind of attitude? How often do our eyes remained closed to Jesus walking with us in our brothers and sisters in Christ because of this kind of attitude? How often do our minds remain closed to what Jesus may be trying to say to us in and through others because we think we know better, because of this kind of attitude? And when this kind of attitude stops us from sharing our faith stories with others, rather than our story building up the Church, it breaks it down. Rather than building up the one Church that Christ called us to be, our parochialism breaks it down into our denomination against theirs, our church against theirs, our tradition against theirs, our group against theirs, our way against theirs. Our parochialism won’t let us see Jesus in the stranger who comes to us in faith, it won’t let us listen to the stranger who comes to us in faith. And rather than inviting the stranger who comes to us in faith to stay, we much prefer to show them the door because, in the final analysis, it’s our way or the highway.

The story of the meeting on the Emmaus Road tells us about the importance of recognising Jesus in the breaking of the bread, but it also tells us about the importance of recognising Jesus in the stranger. It tells us about the importance of listening to the one who comes to us in faith even if they’re not ‘one of us’. And it tells us about the importance of sharing what we know and what we’ve learned with others.

This is very much in line with something that the ex-Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams called ‘Living Catholicism’. Archbishop Rowan said that to be truly catholic, truly universal and able to speak to all people at all times, the Church must be a living Church. The Church mustn’t ignore its traditions but can’t become so set it its ways that it can’t grow and change. Living

Catholicism is about taking the best from all denominations and traditions to gain what Archbishop Rowan called an “enlarged access to truth” and using this to proclaim the Gospel to the world of the day.

And this is what we must do. The world of today is not the world of 40, 30, 20 or even 10 years ago. So what worked to bring people into church 40, 30, 20 or 10 years ago, isn’t necessarily going to work to bring them in today. So we have to change. We have to take the blinkers of parochialism off and look beyond our own tiny part of the Church. We might be very comfortable with ‘our way’ but if that way isn’t leading our church into growth then we have to look to other ways if we want our church to survive beyond our time. And if we can’t or won’t do that but adopt, as so many in the Church have and do, an ‘our way or no way’ attitude, then in the end, when we’re no longer here, it will be no way.

Amen.


Propers for the 3rd Sunday of Easter, 19th April 2026

Entrance Antiphon 
Cry out with joy to God, all the earth; 
O sing to the glory of his name. 
O render him glorious praise, alleluia. 

The Collect 
May your people exult for ever, O God, 
in renewed youthfulness of spirit, 
so that, rejoicing now in the restored glory of our adoption, 
we may look forward in confident hope to the rejoicing of the day of resurrection. 
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, 
God, for ever and ever. 
Amen. 

The Readings 
Missal (St Mark’s)
Acts 2:14, 22-33 
Psalm 16:1-2, 5, 7-11 
1 Peter 1:17-21  
Luke 24:13-35 

Prayer after Communion  
Look with kindness upon your people, O Lord, 
and grant, we pray, 
that those you were pleased to renew by eternal mysteries 
may attain in their flesh 
the incorruptible glory of the resurrection. 
Through Christ our Lord. 
Amen.