<strong>Isaiah 12; I Thessalonians 4:13-18</strong>Come Holy Spirit and comfort our hearts with the fire of your love. Amen.The noble calling of politicians in a democracy is to make all manner of sacrifices - seen and unseen - for the freedom and prosperity of our nation. It is for that reason that across the nation we should be thankful to everyone who is here, and throughout especially the House of Commons, who give so much, despite the cynicism, abuse and cruelty that they so often endure.Too often, when great tragedies happen, we have to reflect that the best seem to be the first to suffer. In this great tragedy, there is a unanimous conviction amongst all who knew him that Sir David was of the best. Eloquent contributions in both the House of Commons and the House of Lords have spoken of his exceptional character. A friend to his constituents and to his constituency; a wholehearted supporter of causes from the now-achieved City Status for Southend, to great causes of the future of our nation around Brexit.And all with a robust fairness of spirit and charity of heart that won the admiration and affection of all sides, regardless of whether they agreed with him politically or not.It was a charity of heart that came from his deep Catholic Christian faith, which was mentioned so often, by so many, in the Lords.He was of the best, and his name will be remembered with Airey Neave, Robert Bradford, Anthony Berry, Ian Gow and Jo Cox, those MPs murdered since 1945, and others – like Andrew Pennington – who have died in the course of public service.Public service in politics is a sacrifice that should be honoured and respected, even when differences of opinion run very deep indeed. David showed that. Sacrifice is the rent paid to liberty by those who represent us. But when the cost is seen so visibly, with such demonic horror, what do we say so that we may comfort the grieving and be resilient in tragedy?First, that the light lit by public service must not be put out. Even in the darkest moments – and especially for Julia and David’s children, this is as dark as could be – light continues. In our first reading we heard the words of the prophet Isaiah to defeated Jewish captives held in slave labour camps outside Babylon. Their King was overthrown, their temple destroyed, their leaders scattered to the winds. Yet Isaiah speaks of future triumph because of the faithfulness of God.Cruel adversity is not final destiny. Darkness does not endure.The light that Sir David held out through his service, inspired by his strong personal faith – that light held by all in public service – may flicker but it will not be extinguished. In the face of such injustice, it must be for all of us to determine to shine that light all the more brightly.Second, there is the promise of justice. St. Paul’s words are to a small church grieving humanly for those who had died. Paul tells them that grief is right and normal, but for those who are servants of Christ, like David, grief is accompanied by the certainties of life and justice. Life because Christ rose from the dead and gives life; justice because there is a final judgement where all that is good, and all that is evil, is judged by God.We mourn and grieve, and so we must. We shudder at loss, how could we do otherwise? Yet we also thank those who serve in politics: we need them, we join them in commitment to the life of hope through their service – a service to which all are called to emulate David in kindness, humour, grace and simply sheer goodness.Above all, we hold to the Christian certainty of life, to the joy of justice done. David, full of faith, will rest in peace and rise in glory.Grief remains the deepest pain, but God promises an end in light, and love, and the enduring hope of the resurrection.
<em>The Archbishop wrote in the Sunday Telegraph following the death of Sir David Amess. The article follows in full...</em>It was said of Sir David Amess that though he had opponents, he didn’t have enemies.As we come to terms with the horror of his murder on Friday, this is a distinction worth pondering.I think of David Amess as a friend. Leigh-on-Sea is my home town, and for ten, glorious years as Bishop of Chelmsford, part of the diocese I served. We often met: in parliament, but usually in his constituency, Southend West.He was, as we have heard over the weekend, a dedicated, zestful, persevering constituency MP. He loved Southend, as I do. He rooted for it. He exemplified that vital, but overlooked, root of our democracy that Members of Parliament may get elected on a party ticket, but, once elected, serve everyone.Tragically, that availability to those he served has led to his death and that this happened in a Church makes it all the more horrific. However, although it is right and inevitable that we review the security around MPs, David himself would not, I’m sure, want that essential connection between those who are elected and those they serve to be broken. In our democracy, place matters. MPs serve our nation by serving a locality and therefore particular people. It is the same in the Church. We must not lose this. When I was with him, it was obvious and evident that he loved his constituency, knew the people, and served their needs regardless of political affiliation. His was a real vocation. He and I did not see eye to eye on some political issues. But this didn’t matter. Or rather, the fact that it doesn’t matter matters hugely for the flourishing of our democracy. Disagreement wasn’t a cause of enmity or division. Disagreement didn’t mean separation. Yet it is precisely this that we see around us in so much of the trench warfare of current public and political discourse, the vitriolic and ever amplifying echo-chambers of social media now invading other areas of life.How do we counter this?David Amess was a kind man. The word kind is related to the word kin. When we are kind to someone, it doesn’t mean we necessarily agree with them, or even like them, but that we recognise a kinship, a common humanity and treat them accordingly; or as we sometimes say, ‘treat them in kind.’David’s robust kindness came from his Christian faith. He was a devout Christian, a Roman Catholic. But the idea that we human beings belong to one another and have a responsibility to each other is not self evident. Observation of our behaviour and attitudes shows us the opposite. Our worst desires can be seen everywhere, leading us to separation, fuelled by selfishness, and bearing fruit in hatefulness and the possession of each other.The picture of humanity that God gives us in Jesus Christ offers something else. In this regard, perhaps the most radical words Jesus ever spoke are the ones most of us know and many of us say every day: ‘Our Father’. In saying these words we don’t just acknowledge we belong to God, we acknowledge our belonging to each other as kith and kin.Such a way of inhabiting life enables us to be kind to each other, especially when we disagree. It can even lead us to love our enemies.Sometimes the newspapers call people like me naive or idealistic. And I dread to think what is said on social media. On the whole, I’ve stopped looking at it. It is too unkind. But when it comes to naiveté and idealism, I plead guilty. I want the world to be a kinder place and I find the template for kindness in the life and teaching of Jesus. David Amess, the friend with whom I sometimes disagreed, had the same values and the same vision. It shaped his life and it is what made him such a loved and effective constituency MP and an exemplar of what our democracy can be.He was always very kind to me. He supported the Church. He cared. He liked to build coalitions of goodwill so that people could work together. Kindness and kinship it turns out, gets things done. My heart goes out to his wife and family and the constituents of Southend West. I am praying for them. I will endeavour to remember David in what can feel at times an increasingly more vulgar, less tolerant, nasty and vituperative world by trying to be kind, by loving my neighbour, by cultivating opponents with persistent kindness and by refusing to respond when people ask me to take sides on anything other than the common good of all God’s people.David Amess didn’t wear his faith on his sleeve. He wore it in his heart. That’s the best place for it. It means it runs through your very being.
Here is Ian McMillan's sonnet.It's not much to ask. Just a door to lock.A door that won't break when someone kicks it.Door with a keyhole. Respond to that knockOr not. My choice. It's broke so let's fix it:The world, I mean. Not the door. That's OK.It's my door, to my room. Look here's the key.The world, though. That's different. Somewhere to stayIs what we all need. Somewhere to be meAnd not just someone you blithely ignoreWhen you see me sleeping on the street.Let's begin with this. A door. Just a doorTo start with. A door. Food. Then light and heat.The world must respond to this simple truth:Let's all have a door. Let's all have a roof.
This Sunday's joint parish Holy Communion service is at St Peter's Church, Hascombe. We'd love you to be with us but if you're elsewhere or housebound, you can join via the Zoom link below.https://us02web.zoom.us/j/84372786503?pwd=ZXlEaVFiMEIxaTBvNXlMdTNvKzByUT09
