Today’s gospel, in which Jesus’ enemies, who therefore are our enemies as well, try to entrap him by asking whether they should pay tax to Caesar or not, is often read as making a distinction between politics and religion. There is Caesar’s world and that of God. The Church should keep out of politics and stick to spirituality, but happily for us, the two are inseparable, and even Andy Burnham wants a go at choosing Bishops, so I suggest that the bishops choose the next PM, at least Bishops tend to hang on for longer than Prime Ministers. All of this is to misunderstand what Jesus is saying. Every human being is made in the image of God and so belongs to God, whether they know it, or indeed like it, or not. For Christians, politics is building the polis, the community, in which God’s own children can live in dignity and happiness, as we await God’s gift of the heavenly city, in which all politics will be finished. Isaiah shows God immersed in the great events of his time, the rise of Cyrus, the Persian ruler who transformed the political map of the Middle East and enabled the exiled Israelites to go home. Religion cannot be reduced to politics, but it has consequences for how we understand the point of politics, and how the eternal city is governed by God for the good of every person who has ever lived. So what is this clash between Jesus and his and our enemies about? They give us the clue: ‘Teacher, we know that you are sincere and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality.’ They contrast two ways of seeing the world: God’s true way, and a human way, in which everything is viewed through the hall of mirrors of wealth and status. Jesus’s -our- opponents are caught up in that human way, speedily producing Caesar’s coin from their pocket, although that image would have polluted them, as they live under his conquering rule and exist by his decision alone. The Herodians especially belonged to the world of wealth and power. They are so blinded that they do not see that the man they are trying to trap is himself the very image of God made human.If one sees the world through the spectacles of status and money, the poor disappear. Etienne Grieu SJ wrote: ‘A world dominated by competition engages in a formidable task of classification, not only of performances but also of people. Right at the bottom of the chart are those who are not efficient enough. They thus become invisible to others, as they are unable to demonstrate their usefulness in any of the various exchanges we take part in… They also feel humiliated because they scarcely can have the means to say who they are or to make people notice the unique treasure they bear.’ This is picked up by Fr Adolfo Nicolas, when he gave a seminal speech some years ago when he became head of the Jesuit Order and I would like us to see his words as a description of our own community and world ‘“Today all nations are gathered here. However, nations continue to appear. I ask myself today who are these ‘nations’, these non-geographical communities, these human communities which ask for our help: they are the poor, the marginalized, the outcast. In our globalized universe, the number of absolute outcasts is increasing. The outcasts are failing, because in our society there is only room for the great and not for the little ones. All those who are disadvantaged, manipulated, all these are perhaps for us these ‘nations’: nations which need the prophetic message of God. Do not forget the poor: they are our ‘nations’. They are the nations for which salvation is still a dream, a wish. It may be in their midst, but they know it not. And what about the others? The others are our collaborators, if they share this viewpoint, if they have the same heart as that which was given us by Christ. And if they have a heart still greater, and an even vaster vision, then we shall be their collaborators. What matters is the health, the salvation, the joy of the poor."We are all, in varying degrees, bifocal. Sometimes we are bewitched by the Caesars of our time, the wealthy and the famous, and lose sight of the beauty of those who do not count. Let God’s grace cleanse our eyes of the defilement of status, wealth and position and open them to His word and His Kingdom. In this world of Caesar’s coin, perpetuated by the demands of capitalism and finance, the people living on the street and in tents under the overpasses, seem like aliens from another world. After the Grenfell Tower fire in London when I lived there, there was violence and looting. The people there are no more necessarily saintly than the wealthy in mansions are wicked. But everyone with whom I talked was more concerned with other people who, they claimed, had suffered more. No one put themselves first. There was humour, laughter, and hope for a few days, a week maybe. I felt that my eyes had opened a tiny bit and I saw not destitute victims but people marked with the image of God. I left feeling that if I spent more time in such places, I would see more clearly, clearly enough at least to know that religion and politics must mix, and contain the character of Christ as their foremost mark, and not Caesars, because we will, at the end of our lives, render to God what belongs to Him, and all that is Caesars will remain here, and it is the Kingdom of God we seek, not the Temple of mankind.
One of the lovely things I have come to appreciate about life at St Stephen’s Church is the warmth of people’s hospitality. Important moments of parish life do not only happen here at the altar or within the liturgy itself, but afterwards in the narthex or at social events in the parish hall, people gathered around tables, shared celebrations, harvest suppers, shared meals, cheese and wine evenings, where conversations flow, laughter is shared, and good times are had long after the plates are cleared away. There is something both human and holy about such moments. Fellowship is deepened, friendships are formed, and people who perhaps arrived feeling uncertain or alone discover themselves welcomed and included. We are fortunate to have great cooks and chefs, a social committee and team of volunteers who set up and clear away, serve, organise music and quizzes, and help create these occasions. I think it is fair to say that Father Andrew has a particular gift for the ministry of welcome and hospitality, helping people feel not simply present, but received, seen and included. Perhaps that is why today’s Gospel feels so recognisable and immediate, because at its heart lies an invitation to a feast, a wedding, a celebration. Invitation is important, and yet, like the guests in the parable, we know how easily life fills itself. Diaries become crowded, days slip past with routines, responsibilities, anxieties, obligations and distractions. None of these things are necessarily bad in themselves, but slowly the deeper invitation of God can become just another thing to squeeze in. And so in today’s Gospel we hear that even after receiving an invitation to the wedding feast, one goes instead to his farm, another to his business. The tragedy is not simply hostility towards the king’s invitation, it is preoccupation, busyness, absorption. Other things get in the way. Perhaps that feels rather familiar. We live in a culture and a time where people are often exhausted. Our attention is constantly pulled in a dozen directions. I was in my local library the other day and noticed that even there, silence has become rare. Many people move through life barely having time to notice. Into these situations comes today’s extraordinary image from the prophet Isaiah: “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will prepare for all peoples a feast.” Those who first heard Isaiah knew hardship, uncertainty, displacement and grief. God promises not simply escape from suffering and tears, but that the hand of the Lord will rest upon this mountain. Today’s Gospel and its parable of the wedding feast deepen that picture beautifully. The idea of a feast carries with it celebration, joy and festivity. Christianity is sometimes misunderstood as though faith were primarily about restriction, obligation or moral heaviness, but again and again in the Gospels Jesus speaks in the language of banquets, weddings, vineyards, abundance, overflowing wine, and bread enough for thousands. This is one reason why hospitality matters so deeply in the living of our faith. Every act of welcome, every shared table, every effort to include rather than exclude becomes a small reflection of the Kingdom itself.In a society where loneliness has become increasingly common, where many people feel unseen or disconnected, the ministry of welcome becomes something profoundly sacred. A cup of tea offered, a remembered name, a place made at the table. These things may appear small, but spiritually they matter enormously. Of course, the Gospel also contains its more challenging edge in the figure of the guest without a wedding garment. At first hearing it can feel harsh. Reading around the passage, I discovered that the early Church often understood the garment symbolically, not as a sign of wealth or status, but of the transformation of the heart. In other words, the invitation is freely given, but it is also life-changing. To accept the invitation of Christ is gradually to be clothed differently, clothed in compassion, mercy, patience, humility, forgiveness, generosity and love. This connects beautifully with Saint Paul’s words to the Philippians. Writing from imprisonment and hardship, Paul has discovered a deeper kind of abundance. “I have learnt how to be poor and how to be rich.” His contentment does not come from circumstances but from Christ himself. The feast of God is not simply about having more, it is about discovering that, in Christ, we already possess what matters most. That is why Paul can say, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” I think this deeper understanding of nourishment underpins today’s readings. People hunger not only for food, success or distraction, but for community, meaning, belonging and love. This is where the Eucharist gathers all these themes together. Each Mass is itself an act of hospitality. Christ invites us again to the feast. One of the quiet challenges of today’s Gospel is for us to ask not only how we receive welcome, but how we offer it. How do our homes, our conversations, our parish life, our daily encounters reflect the generosity of God? Who amongst us, or our wider community might long to feel more seen, more included, more valued because of the way we receive them? Every genuine act of hospitality, every table shared, every kindness offered, every stranger welcomed, becomes a small sign of the Kingdom. That is one of the beautiful things about parish life at St Stephen’s. In all those ordinary moments of fellowship and welcome, in shared meals and conversations, the Gospel is quietly becoming visible. A foretaste of the feast still to come. Lord Jesus, thank you for inviting us to your feast. Make our hearts generous, our homes welcoming, our parish a place of friendship and belonging, and our lives a sign of your Kingdom. As we gather around your altar today, keep before us the joy of that heavenly banquet where all are gathered in your love. Amen.
On a Saturday in early September 2024, I embarked on a train journey to Blackburn, the cathedral to be precise, on a reduced ticket thanks to my senior railcard. This would be a journey I was to make weekly, on a Tuesday evening, during term time for the next 2 years. This particular Saturday was my enrolment Eucharist during which I formally enrolled for Licensed Lay Ministry (LLM) formation with Emmanuel Theological College (ETC). This was hugely thrilling, but what also excited me was the prospect of my ETC lanyard! (I really needed a life!!) And – they sold ETC hoodies! Birthday and Christmas all at once!Following the Eucharist, celebrated by +Philip, and which was, incidentally, extremely well attended by new and returning students, we had a humorous and enlightening talk by the (then) college Dean, Rev Canon Dr Michael Leyden. After that, we met in our formation groups, with our formation tutor who asked us what we hope to gain from our 2 years of formation. I said that I hoped to be able to talk more confidently about my faith, something which I could do beautifully to an empty room but put me in front of a real person…..well……….! And off I went home, buzzing and full of eagerness.A couple of weeks later and I made that trip again, on my first Tuesday evening classroom session. Having already acquired access to the college online platform – Moodle – I made the massive mistake of looking ahead to the assignments over the first year. I should not have done that because it scared the daylights out of me! Then, during that first session we were asked to think about why we believe what we believe – that we would need to be able to articulate that. I struggled because, well, I simply believed. I hadn’t thought about clarifying why I believe. At the start of my formation (they prefer to call it that rather than training) I was overwhelmed with potential expectation.I need not have worried. We were taken, slowly and calmly through our formation weeks, completing a module each term. My first module was foundational theology which was a gentle but solid grounding in theological thinking. During that first module I got to know my fellow students and became very familiar with ETC life. As students we also got the chance to individually create and lead the evening prayer sessions which occurred each Tuesday before classes began. By Christmas, the first module was complete; in January, my first marked assignments brought encouraging results.Subsequent modules included the New Testament, Creeds and Councils (in which we looked closely at the various doctrines, for example, the doctrine of God, or the person of Christ, or the Holy Spirit etc.). That concluded my first year and it flew by!September 2025 and I was back at the cathedral for my next opening Eucharist at which I was no longer a newbie but a returning student. The first session of my new module, Leadership and Theology for Ministry & Mission, went fine. But then, the following Sunday, I broke my foot! So, the rest of that module was completed via zoom. Not quite the same but perfectly doable. Then came the Old Testament module (try covering the Old Testament in one 10-week module!!) and the final module, Christian Discipleship. Also, during that second year, there was the preaching module which was covered across four formation days culminating in an assessed sermon and essay. Finally, July 2026 my college days were complete and by end August all my final assignments submitted (grades still awaited) – formation completed! The very last step will be my licensing, 25th October, at St George’s in Chorley. Do come along and support me, if you are able. So, can I now articulate why I believe what I believe? Yes, I can. Maybe not brilliantly but I now have much more background information and insight into all things theology, Biblical and Christian. Plus, I have had a supervisor who knows a thing or two about theology so that has been enlightening. In fact, I have to say that I have been blessed with such great support from Fr Andrew (my supervisor, in case you hadn’t guessed!) and everyone at church and for that I thank you all. Once I am licensed, I will be allowed to wear my blue preaching scarf and I have a number of ideas I am thinking of trialling. The first of these will be a Pastoral Visiting Team. Home Communion visits show how much housebound parishioners value time to talk, yet those visits are often time limited, but pastoral visiting would, I hope, address this. I see the team as people, associated with the church, making contact and visiting parishioners who are poorly, housebound or who, for some reason, are unable to attend church, short term or long term. The team could visit or phone people who are ill, housebound or temporarily unable to attend church, reassuring them that they are remembered and prayed for.I am also considering short rosary series, varied across the week so that we can pray different mysteries, together with future morning or evening prayer sessions. These ideas still need careful thought—I must not try to run before I can walk!I love the reading from Philippians today. Don’t be anxious; give our requests to God; think good thoughts, positive thoughts. And that peace – the peace which is so deep that it simply cannot be comprehended, will be ours. I am confident that the past two years will yield positivity. I pray that what I envision does happen. And I pray that my wonderful church family will be with me all the way. If you are free on the afternoon of 25th October, I would love to see you at St George’s, Chorley. To hear more about the Pastoral Visiting Team, please stay after Mass on 11th October for a short meeting.Please pray that my licensed ministry supports Fr Andrew’s work in the community and helps bring the love and message of Jesus Christ to all.
It’s not very likely, is it? Paying the same amount to one who has worked for one hour as to those who work ten, it seems unfair. Is it also unfair that people doing different jobs get paid startlingly different wages to others? Why do we value the head of a Water Company such a lot more than a teacher or a Doctor? But no normal employer would pay the same wages to those who worked twelve hours and to those who worked one in the same job. If trades unions functioned in his society, there would be a walkout, braziers lit and banners unfurled. Today’s Gospel, as so often, makes us re-examine how normal life works. The Sower who scatters on unproductive land is not a role-model for any farmer. But may today’s householder be a role-model for employers in the new world order that the Gospel calls us to, as well as a symbol of Jesus?A denarius a day was the minimum wage. If a labourer earned it, he and his family would eat; otherwise they would go to bed hungry. By paying all his workers a denarius, the householder provides them with basic necessities. Maybe those hired at the third hour were unlucky and got missed earlier. Maybe those hired at the sixth hour had slept in. Maybe those hired at the ninth hour were ill and couldn’t work a full day. Those hired at the eleventh-hour sound like grifters, chancers. None of them is allowed to starve through misfortune or indeed fecklessness – all are given their evening meal, regardless of their life situation, work ethic or age. If members of our own family are physically ill, we do not let them starve. If they are mentally ill, we not only feed them, but involve them in as much normal activity as possible. Even those who are lazy and feckless, we care for. We might chivvy them, we might despair of them, but at the end of the day we feed them. Despite occasional grumbling, those with physical, mental and moral health see it as their vocation, hence their fulfilment, to care for family members without.Today’s Gospel asks us why that should be different in a larger scale if we are still one family, God’s family, in which we share through Baptism, because through birth from Mary God became our Father, to whom we pray ‘give us this day our Daily Bread and forgive us as we forgive each other’. Can we then say ‘but not them, not him, and not her, because they are not our family when in fact, we are members of His family. Further, in today’s parable, and in the provisions for the poor he included in the law of Moses, the Divine Householder, the eternal Father, asks us not to humiliate the needy, but to accord them as much self-respect as possible, as we find at the raising of the son of the widow at Nain, when her life is restored to her as much as his. What then does God do with the work we offer Him? And does He care if we come to it late or early – whose fault is it if people come to it late? Maybe other family members who judge others, tut at them, act as though they occupy a greater place at the table of the Most High? What we seek is to share in the Supper of the Lamb, our baseline of hope is to see God and we see God through Jesus who offers to share with us His own knowledge of his Father. No one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal Him. It is this knowledge that we labour in the vineyard for, and we share it with others because it is inexhaustible and eternal and not diluted by being shared but intensified. God must give himself to us and enlarge our hearts and strengthen our minds so that we can receive – indeed survive – such a gift, and that survival will make us change, and for the better. The work of the Church is therefore to labour in a vineyard which we do not own. The Church is not the householder, it is the community of servants of the householder, therefore we are equal and ask not to be judged as we do not judge others, to be forgiven as we forgive others, indeed, to be worthy of the things we ask for in the Lord’s Prayer, and not to be harmed by our saying it glibly. The good we do has a divine value and when the Householder comes ‘to repay everyone for what he has done’, we hope to find our works of loyalty and mercy have contributed to our eternal life; we will have done something to ‘earn our supper’ and to take our seat in Heaven. Let us be wary of saying to ourselves, ‘I have worked hard for six hours’ (or nine, or twelve). We do not know all that God is doing, or plans to do, in others. Perhaps he is currently doing less through us than we think – or, perhaps, a lot more. We need to have faith in Him, and therefore in each other, because we are all members of His family, even those who do not yet know they are, and they will only know if we treat them as members of our own family, as our hope is that He does with us. If in doubt, say the Our Father and mean it.
