Deacon Laura’s Advent Message

I wonder what is the first thing you think of when you hear the word ‘Advent’. Or ‘Christmas’ for that matter.

Maybe it evokes an image of an Advent wreath; candles waiting expectantly for their turn to be lit. Maybe there’s one church service in the season that’s particularly special to you. Perhaps it brings thoughts of decorations or preparations for visiting family. Maybe the first image that comes to mind is a memory of a previous Christmas.

Whatever it makes you think of, it seems difficult to get away from all things Christmas-related. Some of the shops seem to have been playing Christmas songs for months and the earliest recorded sighting of a Christmas tree this year was mid September!

The word that comes into my mind most frequently at the moment is this: Hope.

Okay, so that’s probably got as much to do with the ‘Forward in Hope’ initiative we’re exploring as part of the Circuit, but nevertheless it seems particularly relevant as we step into Advent. Advent is a time of watching and waiting; a time of gathering excitement, when we anticipate a celebration of the hope that was fulfilled in the coming of God incarnate into the world. As Christians we travel the Advent road alongside a billions of others worldwide and down the ages; a road that began before time itself. A road that does not end in Bethlehem. For many of us it’s a road we have walked many times and yet, as we hear again the familiar and yet hugely challenging words of The Greatest Story Ever Told, there is always something new and exciting to discover.

This Advent I hope that every person reading this, whether you are in the habit of singing ‘Once in Royal David’s City’ in September, or put up your Christmas tree up on Christmas Eve (or are somewhere in the middle) will have the time and space to step back and marvel at the glorious, surprising and varied journey we travel with one another and with God. 

I wish you a joyous Advent and a very merry Christmas!

November Message from Deacon Laura

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in the world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done to bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

Part of a traditional Franciscan Blessing

At the moment it seems scarcely possible to turn on the television, open a newspaper or read the news on the internet without being faced with images of our neighbours, both near and far away, who bear the image of God’s face and yet are without food, shelter or the essentials of life.

It seems poignant, then, that by the time you read this it will be November, we will have entered a season of remembering and be approaching Remembrance Sunday and Armistice Day. We will be remembering those events within our history that have shaped, and continue to shape our world, and the people who were and are still caught up in them. Men, women and children. People from all walks of life; of all nations and places; of all races and religions. We remember the millions of people whose lives can never be the same again as a result of conflict, and those who have lost their lives.

In the face of all this it can be difficult to know what to pray for. There is so much to think about that it can seem impossible to get our heads around. This Franciscan blessing asks God for foolishness: not the kind of foolishness that views the world through rose-tinted spectacles, but the sort that that recognizes oppression, injustice and cruelty and has the courage to speak out against it, believing that we can make a difference.

I’m reminded of the story of the young boy walking along the beach throwing beached starfish back into the water.

‘Why are you doing that?’ asks his friend. ‘There are thousands of them. It won’t make any difference.’

The boy reaches down for another starfish, turns to his friend and says ‘It makes a difference to this one.’

May God bless us all with that foolishness.