Sermon | Bregeth for Ascension Day | Dydd Iau’r Dyrchafael

It is good to meet here and hold a Welsh service. Conwy is not now known for its use of the Welsh language, although around 20% of the local area are Welsh speakers. Our church schools take Welsh seriously, one is Welsh-medium and the other working towards that. This holy place is the burial place of Welsh princes, even though it is surrounded by a castle built by an English king. I walk through the doors of the tower of that is older than the castle and town walls with a sense of awe. This has been a place of prayer for generation upon generation. You are most welcome here.

Mae’n braf cyfarfod yma a chynnal gwasanaeth Cymraeg. Nid ydy Conwy bellach yn adnabyddus am ei defnydd o’r iaith Gymraeg, er bod tua 20% o’r ardal leol yn siaradwyr Cymraeg. Mae ein hysgolion eglwysig yn cymryd y Gymraeg o ddifrif, mae un yn gyfrwng y Gymraeg a’r llall yn gweithio tuag at hynny. Y lle sanctaidd hwn yw man claddu tywysogion Cymru, er ei fod wedi’i amgylchynu gan gastell a adeiladwyd gan frenin o Loegr. Rwy’n cerdded trwy ddrysau tŵr sy’n hŷn na’r castell a muriau’r dref gyda theimlad o ryfeddod. Mae hwn wedi bod yn lle gweddi ers cenhedlaeth ar ôl cenhedlaeth. Croeso cynnes i chi yma.

What was the first ever Welsh word you learnt to say. For many it is ‘how are you?’ or for those who have followed the Wlpan course, as I did, it is ‘I am a parrot. The first word I learnt was ‘hollaluog. When I arrived in Holyhead, I had not a word of Welsh, but lots of curiosity. That is how learn, isn’t it?

Beth oedd y gair Cymraeg cyntaf erioed i chi ddysgu ei ddweud? I rhai, ‘sut wyt ti?’ neu i’r rhai sydd wedi dilyn y cwrs Wlpan, fel fi, ‘parot dw i.’ Y gair cyntaf i mi ei ddysgu oedd ‘hollaluog’. Pan dw i wedi cyraedd i Gaergybi, heb gair o Gymraeg, ond llawer o chwilfrydedd. Dyna sut i ddysgu?

As we know the word disciple means learner. The disciples of Jesus were always learning. In our passage from Acts, they ask Jesus a question. The answer given shows that they need to go on learning. Don’t we all? I needed to learn word other than ‘Hollaluog’ in order to communicate. Believe me, it is not the most useful word outside of church.

Fel y gwyddom, mae’r gair disgybl yn golygu dysgwr. Roedd disgyblion Iesu bob amser yn dysgu. Yn ein darn o Actau, maen nhw’n gofyn cwestiwn i Iesu. Mae’r ateb a roddir yn dangos bod angen iddyn nhw barhau i ddysgu. Onid ydym ni i gyd? Roedd angen i mi ddysgu gair heblaw ‘Hollaluog’ er mwyn cyfathrebu. Credwch fi, nid dyma’r gair mwyaf defnyddiol y tu allan i’r eglwys.

They want to know how long things will take. When will everything be finished? Learners of everything know that that is a question. When will I speak Welsh fluently? When will I write using mutations without panicking? When? When? When?

Maen nhw eisiau gwybod pa mor hir fydd pethau’n ei gymryd. Pryd fydd popeth wedi’i orffen? Mae dysgwyr popeth yn gwybod bod hwnnw’n gwestiwn. Pryd fydda i’n siarad Cymraeg yn rhugl? Pryd fydda i’n ysgrifennu gan ddefnyddio treigladau heb banicio? Pryd? Pryd? Pryd?

Jesus told his disciples they had to wait and be patient. Waiting is something I find difficult. They were to wait for the promised Holy Spirit. That is a story for another day, except to say one thing. The disciples would go places and do things that were beyond their imagination.

I might say that learning the language of heaven, which for now we will say is Welsh, has taken me to new places and made me do things that I might never have imagined. I have laughed at my mistakes. A particular delight was the time I spoke to the children of Ysgol Thomas Ellis in Holyhead and attempted to lead the service in Welsh without a script and say that Jesus flew into Jerusalem on the donkey. The children laughed, so did the staff.

Dywedodd Iesu wrth ei ddisgyblion fod yn rhaid iddyn nhw aros a bod yn amyneddgar. Mae aros yn rhywbeth sy’n anodd i mi. Roedden nhw i aros am yr Ysbryd Glân addawedig. Dyna stori ar gyfer diwrnod arall, ac eithrio dweud un peth. Byddai’r disgyblion yn mynd i leoedd ac yn gwneud pethau oedd y tu hwnt i’w dychymyg.

Efallai y byddwn i’n dweud bod dysgu iaith y nefoedd, sef y Gymraeg am y tro, wedi fy nghymryd i leoedd newydd ac wedi gwneud i mi wneud pethau na fyddwn i efallai byth wedi’u dychmygu. Rwyf wedi chwerthin am fy nghamgymeriadau. Pleser arbennig oedd yr amser y siaradais â phlant Ysgol Thomas Ellis yng Nghaergybi a cheisio arwain y gwasanaeth yn y Gymraeg heb sgript a dweud bod Iesu wedi hedfan i Jerwsalem ar yr asyn. Chwarddodd y plant, felly hefyd y staff.

I am sure the disciples also made mistakes. As a disciple of Jesus, I make mistakes today.

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Wales has spoken

So Wales has spoken. Decisively. But not with agreement.

PR would always in all likelihood mean no overall majority. Coalition agreements are quite common place in other countries and do not lead to instability.

It would seem clear that Rhun ap Iorwerth will be First Minister, and Plaid Cymru lead the government. Reform do not have the numbers, even if Welsh Conservatives joined them. Plaid and Welsh Labour could form a coalition, although I think that is unlikely. Labour probably needs a period out of government. The Greens and Liberal Democrat still leave Plaid three votes short of a senedd majority. It may be therefore that Plaid lead a minority government, with perhaps Labour, Greens and Lib Democrat abstaining on the First Minister vote.

It will be interesting to see it unfold. It is likely therefore the FMs of all devolved administrations will be led by nationalist parties. I think that some reflection needs to be done about what the word nationalist means. Reform UK are a British nationalist party for example. It does mean, I think, the fabric of what binds the UK will have to be looked at. Then again, I am an Englishman in Wales; what do I know.

Over to you….

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What is Wales?

I imagine that at some on Friday 8th May we will learn what the composition of the new Senedd will be. I imagine that it will be different to what has gone before. It will tell a story of a variegated Wales.

It is a story with many different threads. Sometimes it is dominated by its neighbour. Sometimes it is lost in nostalgia, and at others celebrated in language and cultural distinctiveness.

How people define their Welsh identity differs. That is a given.

Some identify as Welsh rather than British, and others the other way around. Then there are some of us who live in Wales who are English and have embraced both culture and language.

I am aware that I shape how I understand Wales.

The photo is of a well-known slogan. This one is on the high street in Llangefni. You can see reflected in the photo some of the shops and also if you look carefully at me.

As we digest the formation of the next Welsh government, we need to be careful lest we expect it to be shaped just like us.

Mind how you go.

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See, Judge, Act: Walking to Emmaus

Clopas and his companion were on their way out of Jerusalem. They were going away from where the action had been, and yet there is no need to condemn them. I find that the See, Judge, Act cycle helpful in interpreting this passage.

What I will actually say… will be published after it has been preached.

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Emmaus

Mary

I am not that Mary or indeed Mary of Magdala. I am married to Clopas. He is the brother of Joseph the carpenter. He was a brave and honourable man. Joseph too. But I am talking about Clopas who stood by his brother when most of the family wanted nothing more to do with him. It seemed right that we decided to stand by his son, and Mary of course, when even Joseph’s other sons wanted nothing to with their brother. I went with Mary and the others to the place of execution. How had it come to this, I had wondered at the time.  I watched him as he died. He died as he lived in control, and with compassion. He proclaimed forgiveness and took time; despite the never-ending agony he must have been going through to make sure his mother would be cared for. I was grateful when the end came that the Arimathean came and offered his tomb for him. It was unexpected. Executed people were usually thrown on the rubbish heap, and Nicodemus came with enough balm to anoint several kings.

Apart from returning in two days to properly embalm him that was that. Hopes and dreams that began long before his birth had come crashing down. All was lost. We went to the tomb early on what we now call the first day of the week. The tomb was empty. It did not bring any joy rather further despair. Who would have taken his body? I was never sure what I saw at the tomb. I had never been given a message from what looked like an angel before. The message seemed to be that Jesus was alive. Some of us, including Clopas and myself decided we need to get out of Jerusalem. We were heading for Emmaus. We have family there and would be made welcome.

Jesus joined us at about the halfway point. There was no reason why we should not have recognised him, except we were not looking for him. He opened the scriptures in the easy way that he always did, inviting us to see new things and delighting when we did see. We invited him to stay with us. Jesus had taught us about hospitality. It was when he prayed that we saw him. The he was gone. I did not know I could run so far and so fast. We were back in Jerusalem in about half the time it took us to get to Emmaus. We paused outside the house otherwise it would have been impossible to speak. The two of us bounded up the stairs, tapped on the door like we had been taught. The door opened. He is alive! We know they said, he has appeared to Peter. Mary beamed at us, he has also appeared to James. I would love to know how that went. Mary and I went into a corner of the room, and embraced, laughed and cried.

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Moral Cowardice

I was called out for moral cowardice because I wanted to cast my vote in secret. I am still slightly stunned by those words. They were not specifically aimed at me personally but I guess to just under half of those present who wanted the freedom to vote in this way. There is a welcome for all, even those whose with whom we disagree; but we are allowed to belittle and call names and ascribe views without any evidence to any who do not fall quietly in line.

In the end I abstained. I am disappointed with myself, but I hope I am not a coward, nor an ignoramus when it comes to interpreting Scripture as seems to have been implied. I have two PhDs, both of which touched on scriptural interpretation.

Today I have felt sick. Tomorrow, I will dust myself down and move on. It is why I do not subscribe to the gospel of inclusivity. Jesus always welcomed, but always offered a challenge. He may have had no boundaries, but always demanded everything.

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I am not inclusive

I am not inclusive. I am a Christian. I believe welcome and hospitality are at the heart of what I believe and do.

I do not believe inclusivity, without challenge, is at the heart of what I believe and do

You can embrace and welcome people you disagree with. When I was in Birmingham as a vicar, Hasan was a Muslim. I obviously was not. Both our sons were in the same year at the local church school. We got on, had similar interests, laughed at each others jokes, shared food and put the world to right. We believed though that each other were fundamentally wrong about Jesus. That did not stop our friendship.

So, I am not inclusive. I apologise for that.

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Solitude is connection.

This is the abstract for a paper that I will present at the International Autoethnography Conference in July. Better get cracking.

We are connected to society, neighbourhood, family, friends, work colleagues, political, social, and sporting associations. The birth of the internet and social media means that we can be connected all of the time. However, do I lose myself in the layers of connectivity? Is it in solitude that I find myself by being alone? Do the ancient desert fathers and mothers have something to teach us about this, and what might they have to say to a world that is spiritual but not necessarily rooted in one form of religion.

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My brother, Jesus

Everything to do with my brother shocked me to the core. This most of all. Indeed, it is almost unbelievable.

Of course, we knew some of the stories and scandals that surrounded his birth, but our parents kept lots of details from us, and to be fair so did he. He was not a dreamer who lorded it over his brothers. He was humble and disciplined. I never heard him complain as he worked alongside our father. Jesus could graft. He immersed himself in the traditions of our people, and I thought he might be destined to be a professional rabbi. Then, when dad died, everything changed for him and for us. Not initially, he took care of mum and all of us. No one could have done it better. Looking back, I was a bit of a pain of a younger brother. In Nazareth, we had to take work from anywhere, and he worked sometimes for the Romans. But we all did.

We heard that our cousin John was baptising people in the river Jordan. Jesus told mum that he had to go to be baptised. He used his well-worn phrase. ‘I must be about my father’s business’. I am not sure I ever knew what he meant. Mum cried when he left. I thought he would be back after being baptised, but then I heard he had headed over into the wilderness. It was a while before we received news of his whereabouts. He begun to preach and teach in Capernaum and had gathered some followers behind him. We heard rumours of miracles and of confrontations with the elders of our people. I confronted him along with my brothers. We said some things to him that we regret. If the truth be told, I regretted them as soon as the words departed from my mouth. What sibling does not say things about a brother in haste. Jesus never responded.

Mum went with him. She knew. Had I known would I have gone with him. Perhaps not. I kept myself informed at a distance. Through our family connections in the Temple, I knew he was destined for trouble. I made up my mind to go to the feast. I had heard about him riding into the holy city on a donkey and clearing out the Temple. Jesus had always been single minded about the holy place being for worship. I was surprised that it all ended so quickly. I arrived in the city on the night he was arrested. I could not see him or mum. She was being looked after. I was glad of that. I could not bring myself to go to see him crucified. I heard that he had entrusted our mum to another as he died. That hurt. I saw her briefly on the sabbath. Things were not broken between us, but she needed the care of his followers.

I was to leave Jerusalem on the Sunday. The news about the empty tomb spread quickly. I wanted to challenge Simon and the others. But I saw their brokenness. As I was putting my belongings together in an old bag. One he had given me, Jesus was there. ‘Peace, Jacob,’ he said. I wanted to embrace him but fell to my knees. It was a lot to process. My brother was the Lord of glory. Then he was gone. I never really left Jerusalem but was with those who had trusted him from the beginning. I should have done so. I smiled as I remembered learning how to shape wood with him. I continue to learn from him now.

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Passion Narrative: Cyrene!

I had longed for some time to take Alex and Rufus, my boys, to Jerusalem for the Passover. The holy city was something that Sophia and I told them about since they were small. In our homeland, we were in a minority as Jews surrounded by people who worshipped many different gods, and it was a melting pot of different cultures. I yearned to go to the city of David and experience worship in the Temple. sacrifices had been offered for me before of course, but through other pilgrims, but to be there and do it myself would be out of this world. My only regret was the Sophia was not with us any longer to see it.

Jerusalem was all that I expected and more. There were pilgrims from throughout the world. It was a cultural meeting pot of Jews from many and diverse places. All of us here to celebrate the festival of liberation. Rufus and Alexander loved to sit in the Temple and were intrigued by a teacher from Nazareth. He did teach well, although the elders clearly did not like him and wanted to trip him up. Alexander leaned that people had cheered him into the city as David’s son. I was cautious about him because of that. Many had many such claims and it did not end well for our people. Yet, in his dealings with people, he was resolute and kind.

Towards the end of the week, I heard that he had been arrested, and I knew there would be trouble. I wanted to get the boys out of the city, and yet found myself in a crowd of people who seemed to be gathering to witness an execution. As I was looking for a way to get out quickly, I was grabbed my two soldiers. ‘Boy; carry the cross’. I looked at the Nazaerene who returned by gaze with empathy. I did as I was told. The romans struck me for being hesitant, I was looking for my boys. They were being looked after by the women following the condemned man. I kept going surrounded by a cauldron of noise, many of who simply their to see the spectacle of death. I could see the place of execution and my spirits sank at the enormity of it all. The cross was removed from me, and I was manhandled away, as the Nazarene was stripped and placed on the tree. I found my boys and mouthed a word of thanks. I wanted to run, but my boys stood for a little longer as the young teacher prayed God’s forgiveness on those who were killing him. That was unexpected. Come boys, I said as we left the city. It turned dark as we left. The man was clearly something different. I now know him to be the Messiah. My boys lead churches in Cyrene, and often tell of the time when their dad carried the throne of David’s son.

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