lurchersontheedge

I will attempt to speak without hesitation, repetition or deviation but for slightly longer than just a minute.

The first Easter was messy, complicated and humbling.

Byddaf yn ceisio siarad heb betruso, ailadrodd na gwyriad ond am ychydig dros funud.

Roedd y Pasg cyntaf yn flêr, yn gymhleth ac yn ostyngedig.

It was messy because the women who went to the tomb did so not to encounter the resurrected Jesus, but to anoint his battered and bruised corpse. We sometimes need these moments to let that awful reality sink in. They were going to minister to the dead Jesus. Archbishop Rowan Williams implores us not to let the alleluias of Easter Day drown out the cries of the crucified one; and yet that is precisely what we do in normal circumstances, not that we perhaps can remember such a time.

Roedd yn flêr oherwydd bod y menywod a aeth i’r beddrod yn gwneud hynny i beidio â dod ar draws yr Iesu atgyfodedig, ond i eneinio ei gorff cytew a chleisiedig. Weithiau mae angen yr eiliadau hyn arnom i adael i’r realiti ofnadwy hwnnw suddo. Roeddent yn mynd i weinidogaethu i’r Iesu marw. Mae’r Archesgob Rowan Williams yn ein gorfodi i beidio â gadael i aleluias Dydd y Pasg foddi crio yr un croeshoeliedig; ac eto dyna’n union yr hyn a wnawn mewn amgylchiadau arferol, nid ein bod efallai yn gallu cofio amser o’r fath.

It was complicated. It goes without saying that this was not supposed to happen. It was not in the disciples’ script. They had hoped, as two of them were about to say later to the stranger on the road to Emmaus that Jesus might be the Messiah. Their dreams and aspirations which seemed solid on Palm Sunday had evaporated by Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, scattering to the four corners of the earth.

Roedd yn gymhleth. Mae’n rhaid dweud nad oedd hyn i fod i ddigwydd. Nid oedd yn sgript y disgyblion. Roedden nhw wedi gobeithio, gan fod dau ohonyn nhw ar fin dweud yn ddiweddarach wrth y dieithryn ar y ffordd i Emmaus y gallai Iesu fod y Meseia. Roedd eu breuddwydion a’u dyheadau a oedd yn ymddangos yn gadarn ar Sul y Blodau wedi anweddu erbyn Dydd Iau Cablyd a Dydd Gwener y Groglith, gan wasgaru i bedair cornel y ddaear.

It was humbling because God had raised Jesus from the dead and was in charge. Thus, while Matthew begins his account of the resurrection with Mary Magdalene and the other Mary going to the burial plot, it is God who turns their world upside down once again. An angel rolls back the storm, instilling the fear of the divine into the guards and wearing heavenly garments asks them, and without any hint of humour, almost orders them not to be afraid. Jesus is risen, they are told with the invitation to look inside the tomb and the direction to tell the others that this is the case. Jesus is alive.

Roedd yn ostyngedig oherwydd i Dduw godi Iesu oddi wrth y meirw a’i fod wrth y llyw. Felly tra bod Matthew yn dechrau ei adroddiad am yr atgyfodiad gyda Mair Magdalen a’r Mair arall yn mynd i’r cynllwyn claddu, mae Duw yn troi eu byd wyneb i waered eto. Mae angel yn rholio yn ôl y storm, gan ennyn ofn y dwyfol yn y gwarchodwyr a gwisgo dillad nefol, a heb unrhyw awgrym o hiwmor, mae bron yn eu gorchymyn i beidio ag ofni. Mae Iesu wedi codi, dywedir wrthynt gyda’r gwahoddiad i edrych y tu mewn i’r beddrod a’r cyfarwyddyd i ddweud wrth y lleill fod hyn yn wir. Mae Iesu’n fyw.

As they are going to do just that, Jesus meets them, and they worship him clinging to his feet whilst doing so, oblivious to a world of social distancing.

Go and tell them, the risen Lord insists. I will see them in the Galilee.

Gan eu bod nhw’n mynd i wneud yn union hynny, mae Iesu’n cwrdd â nhw, ac maen nhw’n ei addoli yn glynu wrth ei draed wrth wneud hynny, yn anghofus i fyd o bellter cymdeithasol.

Ewch i ddweud wrthyn nhw, mae’r Arglwydd atgyfodedig yn mynnu. Byddaf yn eu gweld yn y Galilea.

This Easter is messy, complicated and humbling. It is messy and complicated for the way we live has been challenged. The world has been turned upside down. It is humbling because amid the darkness of covid-19, shafts of light, compassion, even heroism have come. These though are not in themselves the message of Easter, although they may be said to flow from it.

Mae’r Pasg hwn yn flêr, yn gymhleth ac yn ostyngedig. Mae’n flêr ac yn gymhleth oherwydd mae’r ffordd rydyn ni’n byw wedi cael ei herio. Mae’r byd wedi’i droi wyneb i waered. Mae’n wylaidd oherwydd yng nghanol tywyllwch covid-19, mae siafftiau o olau, tosturi, hyd yn oed arwriaeth wedi dod. Er nad y rhain yw neges y Pasg ynddynt eu hunain, er y gellir dweud eu bod yn llifo ohoni.

Easter proclaims that death has been conquered and there is no need to be afraid. It was not an easy gospel to hear, not then and indeed not now. The earliest disciples stumbled into the light of this truth, as we do today. We go out today into a world where people are often fearful and keep themselves at a distance. We go with the same message: Jesus is risen.

The Easter words we exchange: ‘Alleluia! Christ is risen!’ were at one stage words with which Christians would greet each and the world during the Easter period. My prayer is that we would have opportunities to exchange those words in the days that lie ahead. The world is changed by the events of the first Easter and its message needed now more than ever. Amen.

Mae’r Pasg yn cyhoeddi bod marwolaeth wedi’i goresgyn ac nid oes angen ofni. Nid oedd yn efengyl hawdd ei chlywed, nid bryd hynny ac yn wir nid nawr. Fe wnaeth y disgyblion cynharaf faglu i olau’r gwirionedd hwn, fel rydyn ni’n ei wneud heddiw. Rydyn ni’n mynd allan heddiw i fyd lle mae pobl yn aml yn ofni ac yn cadw eu hunain o bell. Rydyn ni’n mynd gyda’r un neges: mae Iesu wedi codi.

Y geiriau Pasg rydyn ni’n eu cyfnewid: ‘Alleluia! Roedd Crist wedi codi! ’Ar un adeg roedd geiriau y byddai Cristnogion yn cyfarch pob un ohonynt a’r byd yn ystod cyfnod y Pasg. Fy ngweddi yw y byddem yn cael cyfleoedd i gyfnewid y geiriau hynny yn y dyddiau sydd o’n blaenau. Mae’r byd yn cael ei newid gan ddigwyddiadau’r Pasg cyntaf ac mae angen ei neges nawr yn fwy nag erioed. Amen.

Palm Sunday (5 April 2020)

Philippians 2: 5-11, Matthew 21:1-22

There are two part of the entry of Jesus and his followers into Jerusalem. The first revolves around obtaining the donkey and riding on it into Jerusalem with the crowds chanting and waving palm leaves. The second is Jesus entering Jerusalem; and then going to the temple and overturning the tables of the money changers.

Jesus asks two of his followers to bring him a donkey, so he could ride it into the capital city. As he did so, cloaks were laid for the donkey’s feet to walk on and branches of palm trees were taken to wave a royal welcome.

That is the point. The crowd were announcing that a king was coming. Something was happening. The crowd would be a real mixture of people. Some were Jesus’ friends, who followed him. Others had heard about him and were attracted. Still others, may have been caught up in what was happening.

Jerusalem had seen other days like this. There had been kings and conquerors ride into the city in triumph. These stories would have been past down from one generation to another. Families would have had their favourite stories.

‘Tell us the story, grandad, of David who became king’. And Grandad would have told the story of David.

Tell us the story, Auntie, of Judas Maccabaeus, and how he got rid of the tyrant.

Families today have stories that are told. Stories that have become precious and shape who we are and how we live.

The story of Palm Sunday is one that shapes how we live as Christians. Jesus rides into Jerusalem. He does not try to stop the crowd singing and chanting. Jesus does not hide from their accolades. Nevertheless, he is subversive. Jesus is a king. He does not exercise his power in the same way as other monarchs. Jesus is not Caesar.

Therefore, those who put the readings together for the day put this passage alongside Philippians 2: 6-11. This is a poem that the earliest Christian communities would have sang. It speaks of Jesus as the servant. Exercising humility is not something that comes easy to leaders.

The coronavirus has thrown everything upside down. Some of the things we valued have changed. Who would have thought that each Thursday evening that people would clap those who work for the NHS and provide care in other settings? A few weeks ago, people were more likely to moan than praise. It is true.

The life of the church has been thrown upside down. As a cleric, I have found it difficult at times, but it has reminded me of the important features of our life together: prayer and wrestling with the scriptures. Please do continue to send my prayer requests.

After Jesus had arrived in Jerusalem, he went to the Temple. He threw out the money changers, overturning their tables with the wares on. It is easy to mistake this for a simple protest at the rules and regulations that governed the Temple. Perhaps, Jesus was concerned that the market traders exploited people. Indeed, it is possible that he was angry with the temple authorities for ensuring they made money from running the religious site.

However, we need to listen to what Jesus said in the Temple. He reminded those watching that the Temple was supposed to be a place of prayer. They instead had turned it into a place where prayer and worship were not the focus. Jesus did what he was so good at. He held up a mirror and asked those watching and listening to look.

When I have looked over the last few weeks, I have had to admit that I need to rediscover how to pray and make time to listen to what God is saying. As we go through Holy Week, let us dare to do that. Let us listen to what the Spirit is saying to our churches.

Questions

1. What would the authorities have thought of the procession into Jerusalem?

• Who or what are you praying for?

Activity

Send an Easter card to someone in a different church.

Sul y Blodau (5 Ebrill 2020)

Philipiaid 2: 5-11, Mathew 21: 1-22

Mae dwy ran o fynediad Iesu a’i ddilynwyr i Jerwsalem. Mae’r cyntaf yn troi o gwmpas dod o hyd i’r asyn a’i reidio i Jerwsalem gyda thorfeydd yn llafarganu ac yn chwifio dail palmwydd. Yr ail yw Iesu yn mynd i mewn i Jerwsalem; ac yna aeth i’r deml a gwyrdroi byrddau’r newidwyr arian.

Mae Iesu’n gofyn i ddau o’i ddilynwyr ddod ag asyn iddo, er mwyn iddo allu ei reidio i’r brifddinas. Wrth iddo wneud hynny, cerddodd traed yr asyn ar eu clogynnau a chymerwyd canghennau o goed palmwydd i chwifio croeso brenhinol.

Dyna’r pwynt. Roedd y dorf yn cyhoeddi bod brenin yn dod. Roedd rhywbeth yn digwydd. Byddai’r dorf yn gymysgedd go iawn o bobl. Roedd rhai yn ffrindiau Iesu, ac yn ei ddilyn. Roedd eraill wedi clywed amdano ac wedi eu denu ato. Efallai bod eraill yn dal i gael eu dal yn yr hyn oedd yn digwydd.

Roedd Jerwsalem wedi gweld dyddiau eraill fel hyn. Marchogodd brenhinoedd a choncwerwyr i’r ddinas mewn buddugoliaeth. Byddai’r straeon hyn wedi bod o un genhedlaeth i’r gorffennol. Byddai teuluoedd wedi cael eu hoff straeon.

‘Dywedwch wrthym stori, taid, am David a ddaeth yn frenin’. A byddai Taid  wedi adrodd stori David.

Dywedwch wrthym stori, Modryb, am Judas Maccabaeus, a sut y cafodd wared ar y teyrn.

Mae gan deuluoedd heddiw straeon sy’n cael eu hadrodd. Straeon sydd wedi dod yn werthfawr ac yn siapio pwy ydym ni a sut rydyn ni’n byw.

Mae stori Sul y Blodau yn un sy’n siapio sut rydyn ni’n byw fel Cristnogion. Mae Iesu’n marchogaeth i Jerwsalem. Nid yw’n ceisio atal y dorf rhag canu a llafarganu. Nid yw Iesu’n cuddio rhag eu canmoliaeth. Serch hynny, mae’n wrthdroadol. Iesu yn frenin. Nid yw’n arfer ei rym yn yr un modd â brenhinoedd eraill. Nid Cesar yw Iesu.

Felly, mae’r rhai sy’n rhoi’r darlleniadau at ei gilydd ar gyfer y dydd yn gosod y darn hwn ochr yn ochr â Philipiaid 2: 6-11. Dyma gerdd y byddai’r cymunedau Cristnogol cynharaf wedi’i chanu. Mae’n siarad am Iesu fel y gwas. Nid yw ymarfer gostyngeiddrwydd yn rhywbeth sy’n hawdd i arweinwyr.

Mae’r coronafirws wedi taflu popeth wyneb i waered. Mae rhai o’r pethau roedden ni’n eu gwerthfawrogi wedi newid. Pwy fyddai wedi meddwl y byddai pobl yn clapio’r rhai sy’n gweithio i’r GIG ac yn darparu gofal mewn lleoliadau eraill bob nos Iau? Ychydig wythnosau yn ôl, roedd pobl yn fwy tebygol o gwyno na chanmol. Mae’n wir.

Mae bywyd yr eglwys wedi cael ei daflu wyneb i waered. Fel clerigwr, rwyf wedi ei chael yn anodd ar brydiau, ond mae wedi fy atgoffa o nodweddion pwysig ein bywyd gyda’n gilydd: gweddi ac ymgodymu â’r ysgrythurau. Daliwch ati i anfon fy nghaisiadau gweddi.

Pan gyrhaeddodd Iesu Jerwsalem, aeth i’r Deml. Taflodd y newidwyr arian allan. Mae’n hawdd camgymryd hyn am brotest syml yn erbyn y rheolau a’r rheoliadau a oedd yn llywodraethu’r Deml. Efallai, roedd Iesu’n poeni bod masnachwyr y farchnad yn ecsbloetio pobl. Mewn gwirionedd, efallai ei fod wedi ei gythruddo gan awdurdodau’r deml am sicrhau eu bod yn gwneud arian o redeg y safle crefyddol.

Fodd bynnag, mae angen i ni wrando ar yr hyn a ddywedodd Iesu yn y Deml. Atgoffodd y rhai oedd yn gwylio bod y Deml i fod i fod yn fan gweddi. Yn lle hynny, roeddent wedi ei droi yn fan lle nad gweddi ac addoliad oedd y ffocws. Gwnaeth Iesu yr hyn yr oedd mor dda yn ei wneud. Daliodd ddrych i fyny a gofyn i’r rhai oedd yn gwylio ac yn gwrando edrych.

Pan fyddaf wedi edrych dros yr wythnosau diwethaf, mae’n rhaid i mi gyfaddef bod angen i mi ailddarganfod sut i weddïo a gwneud amser i wrando ar yr hyn y mae Duw yn ei ddweud. Wrth inni fynd trwy’r Wythnos Sanctaidd, gadewch inni feiddio gwneud hynny. Gadewch inni wrando ar yr hyn y mae’r Ysbryd yn ei ddweud wrth ein heglwysi.

Cwestiynau i feddwl amdanynt

1. Beth fyddai’r awdurdodau wedi meddwl am yr orymdaith i mewn i Jerwsalem?

2. Ar gyfer pwy neu beth ydych chi’n gweddïo?

Gweithgaredd

Anfonwch gerdyn Pasg at rywun mewn eglwys wahanol.

Gweddi

Gweddïwch dros ein gweithwyr proffesiynol gofal iechyd

Mae’r fersiwn Gymraeg yn dilyn y Saesneg

Passion Sunday (29 March 2020)

Ezekiel 37:1-14, Romans 8:6-11 and John 11:1-45

I guess that most of us are more familiar with the New Testament than the Old Testament. The Old Testament was the Bible that Jesus knew. It is often called by scholars the Hebrew Bible.

This passage from Ezekiel is perhaps one of the most familiar from the Hebrew Bible. I cannot read without hearing the words of the spiritual, ‘dem dry bones’. It is an amazing passage. The prophet is taken to a valley of dry bones and asked to speak to the bones. On one level, we should be smiling, or laughing, as we visualise the scene. However, Ezekiel does exactly as he is asked. He prophesies. One of my friends, Gordon McConville, reminds us that ‘the coming of the breath or spirit into the bodies recalls the first human creation’ (Genesis 2:7). It is important to note that Scripture is interwoven, reacting with and sometimes against each other. I think we forget that sometimes, as we hear little parts read aloud in church. Indeed, if you are anything like me, I only hear a fragment of what is read. The Bible was written over a period of time, and each of those times is different to our own. The words of the scriptures should challenge and disturb us because of this, and because, as Christians, we believe God speaks in a particular way to us through these ancient words.

God, in this, passage is doing something new. I wonder what new things God might be doing for you and for me. In these days of semi lock-down, I am learning again how to pray. I have spent more time praying over the last few days than I have done for a long time. this is probably because I have been forced to stop. What are you learning? I have asked us to pray together, but apart, every day at 12 Noon, and produced a simple prayer through the day leaflet. I can encourage you to use it and make time to stop.

Why does the prophet speak to the bones? He does so because he, firstly hears the word of the Lord (that song again), and secondly he has hope that God can act. I sometimes think we have forgotten that God acts. The people of God had been carried away into Exile and separated from the holy place in Jerusalem. By the rivers of Babylon, they had sat down and wept (another song). The prophet speaks to the bones because God brings new life in places where we think it is impossible.

Then picture another scene. Jesus is stood at the tomb of his friend, Lazarus. Mary and Martha are there. They are sisters of the dead man. Jesus is filled with tears. It is a place of absolute hopelessness. Or is it? Jesus asks that the tomb be rolled away. What is he doing? He speaks to Lazarus’s dry bones, ‘Lazarus, Come out!’ Visualise, if you would, the darkness of the tomb.

I spluttered once, and then twice. The dryness of my throat was apparent, and then the stench. Stench? Stench of what? Where am I as my eyes moistened and adjusted. I am dry. It is dark, as I feel for the first-time clothing bandaged around me. But what is it? I remember my sisters wrapping me in linen when we children. But where I am I now? It stinks… and I remember. Is this it? Darkness, but wait resonating I hear a voice. ‘Lazarus’. Lazarus – that is me. I am being called. I see a chink of light. ‘Come out – the voice calls. It is him – Jesus. I struggle to move; what are these things. I hobble towards the light. Slowly, my legs are bandaged – and weak; they seem like I have not used them for ages. ‘Lazarus, Come out!’. My ears seem to retune to the call. I have been unwell. Is this dying? I struggle towards the light. A hand touches my own and pulls me further into the light.

My eyes blink and blink again at the brightness, and I find myself staring into his eyes. It is Jesus. His eyes look like they are on fire. He smiles and laughs. ‘Untie him’ – he commands.

Untie me? I begin to remember. Mary and Martha fall upon me. I am not as strong as I was, as the three of us tumble on to the floor as if we were children. Jesus lifts me up. ‘Thank you’. He smiles back at me with a smile that suggests that he had done something easy, as if a greater battle lies ahead.

God, in Jesus, does the impossible.

I find it significant that it is Martha who meets Jesus and declares that she believes him to be the Messiah. Earlier, when Mary had been sat at Jesus’ feet, Martha had hurried around in her busyness. Here in this passage, Martha must stop. She must listen.

So many of us have run around trying to keep church structures and buildings going. Now, we are being forced to stop. Like me, perhaps all of us need to learn that it is time to pray. Prayer is not passive, but active. It involves listening and then acting on what God is saying.

I wonder whether like Ezekiel, we might speak to the dry bones.

Questions

1. Why do you think Jesus did not go to Lazarus at first?
2. What are you learning at this time?

Activity

Phone someone from a different church within our Ministry Area

Sul y Mamau (29 Mawrth 2020)

Ezekiel 37:1-14, Romans 8:6-11 and Ioan 11:1-45

Rwy’n dyfalu bod y mwyafrif ohonom yn fwy cyfarwydd â’r Testament Newydd na’r Hen Destament. Yr Hen Destament oedd y Beibl roedd Iesu’n ei wybod. Fe’i gelwir yn aml gan ysgolheigion y yr Beibl Hebraeg.

Efallai bod y darn hwn o Eseciel yn un o’r rhai mwyaf cyfarwydd o’r Beibl Hebraeg. Ni allaf ddarllen heb glywed geiriau’r ysbrydol, ‘dem dry bones’. Mae’n ddarn anhygoel. Aed â’r proffwyd i ddyffryn o esgyrn sych a gofynnir iddo siarad â’r esgyrn. Ar un lefel, dylem fod yn gwenu, neu’n chwerthin, wrth inni ddelweddu’r olygfa. Fodd bynnag, mae Eseciel yn gwneud yn union fel y gofynnir iddo. Mae’n proffwydo. Mae un o fy ffrindiau, Gordon McConville, yn ein hatgoffa bod ‘dyfodiad yr anadl neu’r ysbryd i’r cyrff yn dwyn i gof y greadigaeth ddynol gyntaf’ (Genesis 2: 7). Mae’n bwysig nodi bod yr Ysgrythur yn cydblethu, yn ymateb gyda’i gilydd ac weithiau yn erbyn ei gilydd. Rwy’n credu ein bod ni’n anghofio hynny weithiau, wrth i ni glywed rhannau bach yn cael eu darllen yn uchel yn yr eglwys. Yn wir, os ydych chi’n unrhyw beth fel fi, dim ond darn o’r hyn sy’n cael ei ddarllen y clywaf i. Ysgrifennwyd y Beibl dros gyfnod o amser, ac mae pob un o’r amseroedd hynny yn wahanol i’n rhai ni. Dylai geiriau’r ysgrythurau ein herio ac aflonyddu arnom oherwydd hyn, ac oherwydd, fel Cristnogion, credwn fod Duw yn siarad mewn ffordd benodol â ni drwy’r geiriau hynafol hyn.

Mae Duw, yn hyn o beth, yn gwneud rhywbeth newydd. Tybed pa bethau newydd y gallai Duw fod yn eu gwneud i chi ac i mi. Yn y dyddiau hyn o hanner cloi i lawr, rydw i’n dysgu eto sut i weddïo. Dw i’nwedi treulio mwy o amser yn gweddïo dros yr ychydig ddyddiau diwethaf nag yr wyf wedi’i wneud ers amser maith. mae’n debyg bod hyn oherwydd fy mod wedi cael fy ngorfodi i stopio. Beth ydych chi’n ei ddysgu? Dw i’n wedi gofyn chi inni weddïo gyda’n gilydd, ond ar wahân, bob dydd am hanner dydd, a wedi chynhyrchu gweddi syml trwy’r daflen ddydd. Gallaf eich annog i’w ddefnyddio a gwneud amser i stopio.

Pam mae’r proffwyd yn siarad â’r esgyrn? Mae’n gwneud hynny oherwydd ei fod, yn gyntaf yn clywed gair yr Arglwydd (y gân honno eto), ac yn ail mae ganddo obaith y gall Duw weithredu. Dw i’n meddwl weithiau ein bod wedi anghofio bod Duw yn gwaith. Roedd pobl Dduw wedi cael eu cludo i ffwrdd i Alltud ac wedi gwahanu o’r lle sanctaidd yn Jerwsalem. Wrth afonydd Babilon, roeddent wedi eistedd i lawr ac wylo (cân arall). Mae’r proffwyd yn siarad â’r esgyrn oherwydd bod Duw yn dod â bywyd newydd mewn lleoedd lle rydyn ni’n meddwl ei fod yn amhosib.

Yna lluniwch olygfa arall. Saif Iesu wrth feddrod ei ffrind, Lasarus. Mae Mary a Martha yno. Maen nhw’n chwiorydd i’r dyn marw. Mae Iesu’n llawn dagrau. Mae’n lle o anobaith llwyr. Neu ydy e? Mae Iesu’n gofyn i’r beddrod gael ei rolio i ffwrdd. Pam mae’n ei wneud? Mae’n siarad ag esgyrn sych Lasarus, ‘Lasarus, Dewch allan!’ Delweddwch, os byddech chi, dywyllwch y beddrod.

I spluttered once, and then twice. The dryness of my throat was apparent, and then the stench. Stench? Stench of what? Where am I as my eyes moistened and adjusted. I am dry. It is dark, as I feel for the first-time clothing bandaged around me. But what is it? I remember my sisters wrapping me in linen when we children. But where I am I now? It stinks… and I remember. Is this it? Darkness, but wait resonating I hear a voice. ‘Lazarus’. Lazarus – that is me. I am being called. I see a chink of light. ‘Come out – the voice calls. It is him – Jesus. I struggle to move; what are these things. I hobble towards the light. Slowly, my legs are bandaged – and weak; they seem like I have not used them for ages. ‘Lazarus, Come out!’. My ears seem to retune to the call. I have been unwell. Is this dying? I struggle towards the light. A hand touches my own and pulls me further into the light.

My eyes blink and blink again at the brightness, and I find myself staring into his eyes. It is Jesus. His eyes look like they are on fire. He smiles and laughs. ‘Untie him’ – he commands.

Untie me? I begin to remember. Mary and Martha fall upon me. I am not as strong as I was, as the three of us tumble on to the floor as if we were children. Jesus lifts me up. ‘Thank you’. He smiles back at me with a smile that suggests that he had done something easy, as if a greater battle lies ahead.

Mae Duw, yn Iesu, yn gwneud yr amhosib.

Rwy’n ei chael hi’n arwyddocaol mai Martha sy’n cwrdd â Iesu ac yn datgan ei bod yn credu mai ef yw’r Meseia. Yn gynharach, pan oedd Mair wedi eistedd wrth draed Iesu ’, roedd Martha wedi brysio o gwmpas yn ei phrysurdeb. Yma yn y darn hwn, rhaid i Martha stopio. Rhaid iddi wrando.

Mae cymaint ohonom wedi rhedeg o gwmpas yn ceisio cadw strwythurau ac adeiladau eglwysig i fynd. Nawr, rydyn ni’n cael ein gorfodi i stopio. Fel fi, efallai bod angen i bob un ohonom ddysgu ei bod yn bryd gweddïo. Nid yw gweddi yn oddefol, ond yn weithredol. Mae’n cynnwys gwrando ac yna gweithredu ar yr hyn mae Duw yn ei ddweud.

Tybed ai fel Eseciel, efallai y byddwn yn siarad â’r esgyrn sych.

Cwestiynau i feddwl amdanynt

1. Pam ydych chi’n meddwl na aeth Iesu i Lasarus ar y dechrau?

2. Beth ydych chi’n ei ddysgu ar hyn o bryd?

Gweithgaredd

Ffoniwch rywun o eglwys wahanol yn Ardal ein Gweinidogaeth

Gweddi

Gweddïwch dros ein gweithwyr proffesiynol gofal iechyd

Like many others, I lit a candle in the window on the evening of Mothering Sunday in hope. Light is a good thing. It dispels darkness and also shows up what the darkness conceals.

Quite rightly, people lit their candles in hope. Hope is a beautiful thing. Indeed, as someone from one of the Star Wars films said, ‘Hope is what rebellions are built on’. I lit mine in defiance as well.

That met with some interesting comments on Twitter. My interlocuters thought that defiance was a negative expression, and I should be channelling all my energies into the positivity of hope. Such an argument does not for me chime with what I understand to be the hope fashioned by the Christian faith. I am not hopeful because we will get through this; I anticipate we will. Sadly, we will lose a number of people. Disease does that.

I am defiant because it comes out lament. Lament allows for expressions of anger, frustration and defiance. Lament prompts action, both spiritual and physical.

Therefore, I lit the candle with defiance and in hope

Yn Saesneg yn gyntaf yna Cymraeg

Mothering Sunday (22 March 2020)

Exodus 2:1-10, Psalm 34, 2 Corinthians 1:3-7 and John 19:25-27

I don’t think I ever in my wildest dreams imagined that I would write a sermon in these circumstances and send it out virtually rather than stand before people and engage with them. Covid-19 has changed lots of things. Indeed, almost everything. Before I look at the biblical texts, which I have also sent out and posted. Let me say one practical thing. It really is so important to socially keep our distance physically. There are ways of keeping close in other ways: phone, cards, letters and the opportunities on-line; and of course, there is also the wave or the smile that brightens each day. Let us not fall into the trap of believing that this disease cannot touch us. That would be silly.

The reading from the Hebrew Bible is from Exodus. It is the story of the birth of Moses, and how his mother placed him in the basket on the river Nile, and his discovery by the daughter of the Pharaoh. There are several elements to this story, the mother’s love that took the extraordinary risk to save her son. The daughter of the Pharaoh saving the life of the boy, who had been condemned to death. We cannot avoid that at the heart of the story is a tyrant who wishes to preserve his power, and a God who wants to liberate his people. It is unsurprising that the Exodus has stimulated the imaginations and spirits of liberation theologians working in Africa and Latin America. Not in our passage are the midwives who had defied the Pharaoh and saved the lives of many. Midwives may not naturally be subversive. But they were. In this present crisis, little acts of kindness can be subversive. The Christian faith has been at its best when it has been radical and recognised that the church exists for those who are not naturally seen as part of it. I wonder even when we are keeping our physical distance, who can you reach out to?

The reading from the Gospel takes us to the foot of the cross where Jesus’ mother and one of his closest friends are watching and waiting. Jesus entrusts each to the other. He could have rightly expected his brother James to have cared for his mother. Jesus always broke boundaries and continues to do so today. I have observed some wonderful things this week as people have supported each other. In Amlwch, children are being encouraged to draw and paint pictures to display in the windows of their houses just to make people smile as they go passed. We need to respect the rules of social distancing, but we can continue to follow the way of Jesus by not passing by on the other side, and yes, inconveniencing ourselves to help others. There is more to family than blood.

The Apostle Paul is writing to the scattered and besieged communities in and around Corinth. He wants to encourage them that in their suffering they are consoled by God. I hope that this is something that Christian people can hang on to. If I might digress for a moment, I have read some awful things online about the Coronavirus and God. This virus is not from God in any way, shape or form. To argue that is to misunderstand the God who we worship completely. It is false news.

When I was reading the passage, I initially misread ‘our hope for you is unshaken’ as ‘our hope is unshaken’. My hopes this week were challenged as my wife was taken to hospital. She was not admitted, although it was a scary 48 hours. Hope is important. Paul does suggest that those who are suffering will be consoled. I grew up in Sheffield with the stories of the Derbyshire village of Eyam. It was about how in another time of pandemic; a village chose to isolate itself and keep itself at a distance. All people of goodwill were involved in leading the village: political, community and religious leaders. It was a costly experiment. The vicar in Eyam spoke much about hope, compassion and generosity.

And so, we come to the Psalm. The psalms are a book of song that encompass every part of human emotion from sorrow to joy, mourning to dancing. The writer declares: ‘The Lord is near to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit’. many people are despondent at this time. Some of us are worried, even scared. We can get through this if we stand together.

We do this by radical acts of kindness: the smile and wave, as well as the letter and the food parcel. Most importantly we can pray. On Sunday evening (22 March 2020), I invite you to join with people of faith around the British Isles to light a candle, placing it carefully in your window as a sign of defiance against the darkness of the coronavirus. Each day at 12 Noon, I also invite you stop and breathe, reflecting on all that is happening and say the Lord’s prayer as an act of faith, hope and love.

The names of Moses mother and Pharaoh’s daughter are not mentioned. They were different people: one a princess, the other a slave, one Jew and the other an Egyptian. Both were thrown together by the baby in the basket. This strange time will see us appreciate each other in different ways. May we dare to rise to the challenge of being different and to respond to call to be subversive, this Mothering Sunday and always.

Questions to think about

1. Which of the passages speaks to you and why? Why not share your answer with another member of the congregation. Pick up the phone or send a card or email.

• What subversive act of kindness could you do?

Activity

Write a letter to someone who needs it.

Prayer

Pray for our health care professionals

Sul y Mamau (22 Mawrth 2020)

Exodus 2:1-10, Salm 34, 2 Corinthiad 1:3-7 and Ioan 19:25-27

Nid wyf yn credu imi ddychmygu erioed y byddwn yn ysgrifennu pregeth o dan yr amgylchiadau hyn a’i hanfon allan yn hytrach na sefyll o flaen pobl ac ymgysylltu â nhw. Mae Covid-19 wedi newid llawer o bethau. Mewn gwirionedd, bron popeth. Cyn i mi edrych ar y testunau Beiblaidd, rwyf hefyd wedi eu hanfon. Gadewch imi ddweud un peth ymarferol. Mae mor bwysig mewn gwirionedd cadw ein pellter yn gorfforol. Mae yna ffyrdd i aros yn agos mewn ffyrdd eraill: ffôn, cardiau, llythyrau a’r cyfleoedd ar-lein; ac wrth gwrs, mae yna hefyd y don neu’r wên a all oleuo diwrnod rhywun. Peidiwn â syrthio i’r fagl o gredu na all y clefyd hwn ein cyffwrdd. Byddai hynny’n wirion.

Daw darlleniad y Beibl Hebraeg o Exodus. Hanes genedigaeth Moses ydyw, a sut y gosododd ei fam ef yn y fasged ar afon Nile, a’i ddarganfyddiad gan ferch y Pharo. Mae yna sawl elfen i’r stori hon, cariad y fam a gymerodd y risg anhygoel i achub ei mab. Fe arbedodd merch Pharo fywyd y bachgen.

Ni allwn osgoi hynny wrth wraidd y stori mae teyrn sydd eisiau amddiffyn ei rym, a Duw sydd am ryddhau ei bobl. Nid yw’n syndod bod yr Exodus wedi ysgogi dychymyg ac ysbryd diwinyddion rhyddhad sy’n gweithio yn Affrica ac America Ladin. Roedd y bydwragedd a heriodd y Pharo ac achub bywydau llawer yn arwyr. Efallai na fydd bydwragedd yn wrthryfelwyr naturiol. Ond roedden nhw. Yn yr argyfwng presennol hwn, mae llawer o weithredoedd caredigrwydd yn ymddangos yn wrthryfelgar. Mae’r ffydd Gristnogol wedi bod ar ei gorau pan fu’n radical a chydnabod bod yr eglwys yn bodoli ar gyfer y rhai nad ydyn nhw’n cael eu hystyried yn naturiol yn rhan ohoni. Tybed hyd yn oed pan fyddwn yn cadw ein pellter corfforol, at bwy allwch chi estyn allan?

Mae darlleniad yr Efengyl yn mynd â ni at droed y groes lle mae mam Iesu ac un o’i ffrindiau agosaf yn gwylio ac yn aros. Mae Iesu’n ymddiried yn y llall. Gallai fod wedi disgwyl i’w frawd James fod wedi gofalu am ei fam. Roedd Iesu bob amser yn torri ffiniau ac yn parhau i wneud hynny heddiw. Rwyf wedi arsylwi rhai pethau rhyfeddol yr wythnos hon gan fod pobl wedi cefnogi ei gilydd. Yn Amlwch, anogir plant i dynnu a phaentio lluniau i’w harddangos yn ffenestri eu tai i wneud i bobl wenu wrth iddynt basio. Mae angen i ni barchu rheolau pellter cymdeithasol, ond gallwn ni ddilyn ffordd Iesu o hyd trwy beidio â phasio’r ochr arall, ac ie, anghyfleustra ein hunain i helpu eraill. Mae mwy i deulu na gwaed.

Mae’r Apostol Paul yn ysgrifennu at y cymunedau gwasgaredig a dan warchae yng Nghorinth a’r cyffiniau. Mae am eu hannog i gael eu cysuro gan Dduw yn eu dioddefaint. Gobeithio bod hyn yn rhywbeth y gall pobl Gristnogol ei hongian. Esgusodwch fi, os byddaf yn crwydro i ffwrdd am eiliad, rwyf wedi darllen rhai pethau erchyll ar-lein am y Coronafirws a Duw. Nid yw’r firws hwn gan Dduw mewn unrhyw ffordd, siâp na ffurf. Dadlau hynny yw camddeall yn llwyr y Duw rydyn ni’n ei addoli. Mae’n newyddion ffug.

Pan oeddwn yn darllen y darn, fe wnes i gamddarllen i ddechrau ‘nid yw ein gobaith amdanoch chi wedi’i dorri’ gan ‘nad yw ein gobaith wedi’i dorri’. Heriwyd fy ngobeithion yr wythnos hon wrth i’m gwraig gael ei chludo i’r ysbyty. Ni chafodd ei derbyn i’r ysbyty, er ei bod yn 48 awr frawychus. Mae gobaith yn bwysig. Mae Paul yn awgrymu y bydd y rhai sy’n dioddef yn cael eu cysuro. Cefais fy magu yn Sheffield gyda straeon pentref Eyam yn Swydd Derby. Roedd yn ymwneud â sut mewn cyfnod arall o bandemig; dewisodd pentref ynysu ei hun a chadw ei hun o bell. Roedd pawb o ewyllys da yn ymwneud ag arwain y pentref: arweinwyr gwleidyddol, cymunedol a chrefyddol. Roedd yn arbrawf costus. Siaradodd y ficer yn Eyam lawer am obaith, tosturi a haelioni.

Ac felly, rydyn ni’n dod at y Salm. Llyfr o gân yw’r salmau sy’n cwmpasu pob rhan o emosiwn dynol o dristwch i lawenydd, galaru i ddawnsio. Mae’r ysgrifennwr yn datgan: ‘Mae’r Arglwydd yn agos at y rhai toredig ac yn achub y rhai sy’n cael eu malu mewn ysbryd’. mae llawer o bobl yn ddigalon ar yr adeg hon. Mae rhai ohonom ni’n poeni, hyd yn oed yn ofnus. Gallwn fynd trwy hyn os ydym yn sefyll gyda’n gilydd.

Rydyn ni’n gwneud hyn trwy weithredoedd radical o garedigrwydd: y wên a’r don, yn ogystal â’r llythyren a’r parsel bwyd. Yn bwysicaf oll gallwn weddïo. Nos Sul (22 Mawrth 2020), fe’ch gwahoddaf i ymuno â phobl ffydd o amgylch Ynysoedd Prydain i gynnau cannwyll, gan ei gosod yn eich ffenestr yn ofalus fel arwydd o herfeiddiad yn erbyn tywyllwch y coronafirws. Bob dydd am hanner dydd, rwyf hefyd yn eich gwahodd i stopio ac anadlu, gan fyfyrio ar bopeth sy’n digwydd a dweud gweddi’r Arglwydd fel gweithred o ffydd, gobaith a chariad.

Ni chrybwyllir enwau mam Moses a merch Pharo. Roeddent yn bobl wahanol: un yn dywysoges, un yn gaethwas, un yn Iddew a’r llall yn Aifft. Cafodd y ddau eu taflu at ei gilydd gan y babi yn y fasged. Bydd yr amser rhyfedd hwn yn ein gweld ni’n gwerthfawrogi ein gilydd mewn gwahanol ffyrdd. Gawn ni feiddio ymateb i’r her o fod yn wahanol ac ymateb i alwad i fod yn wrthryfelwyr, Sul y Mamau hwn a bob amser.

Cwestiynau i feddwl amdanynt

1. Pa un o’r darnau sy’n siarad â chi a pham? Beth am rannu’ch ateb ag aelod arall o’r gynulleidfa. Codwch y ffôn neu anfonwch gerdyn neu e-bost.

• Pa weithred subversive o garedigrwydd allech chi ei wneud?

Gweithgaredd

Ysgrifennwch lythyr at rywun sydd ei angen.

Gweddi

Gweddïwch dros ein gweithwyr proffesiynol gofal iechyd

One of the things I have learnt this week is this: I am not essential. It is true for everyone at some point.

My diary which was full is now rapidly emptying. I am needing to rediscover who I am and what it means to be a vicar, the Godbotherer, the God-person. Sometimes we clergy can look important by being at lots of meetings. The meetings have by and large been cancelled. The ones that are left in are there because I have not cancelled them yet.

This enemy (see my blog on 18 March 2020) is redefining lots of things. It will redefine how we live and be. From my point of view, on Sunday morning, I will not be grabbing some coffee before going out to church after that is walking my beloved hounds. Public worship is suspended. There will be no running, driving, from one church to the other, nor for me the wondering as I preside at the eucharist for a fourth time whether I have prayed these words in this service before. I will endeavour to deliver some thoughts about Mothering Sunday on Facebook Live. I have never done that before. 10am on Sunday if you want to watch and laugh as this bookish cleric tries to negotiate a different world. I will light a candle of Sunday evening at 7pm with people of faith as an act of defiance against this invisible enemy.

As I rediscover afresh who I am and what I am meant to do, I will be praying, listening and watching. These were things that the things I thought were important squeezed out.

and after all this madness is over… I will probably still be non-essential…. and while this is a voyage of discovery, it hurts just a little.

Those who read the blog yesterday, she is a lot better this evening, thanks

There are many thing visible in our communities that are disappearing for a while: clubs, social groups, schools, chapels and churches, even snooker halls. These communities have at different times been the heart beat of our societies/neighbourhoods.

As they disappear the invisible things that gave them birth like compassion, kindness and generosity will come to the foreground. These midwives, as it will, will help birth other things.

Stubborn, independent people like me will learn to be less independent , although probably not less stubborn. Someone brought us some shopping today – I was moved that they wanted to help. This is because I am far better at being the giver than the receiver. I need to learn from this.

More tomorrow….

It is not melodramatic to call Covid-19 an enemy. My wife was taken to hospital today by ambulance. The paramedics were wonderful.

I have to say I cried when they pulled from the drive. I could not go with her, because if she has it, so do I. It’s almost like a game of tig, I said to the paramedic, ‘no one wants to be it’.

I prayed and called others to prayer. I don’t think I have a hotline to God or have a particular way in, I am more like a constant dripping tap. I imagine getting on God’s nerves, if that were possible. There it is then. Dodgy theology, perhaps.

This enemy causes us to think: what is life and asks how will you live?

I think when it passes, as it will, hopefully, how we live will change. Children born and growing up in the 2020s and 2030s will think and behave differently. They will do this because of the enemy, but also because of how we have been.

We are complex creatures: hoarders of too many bog rolls and then willing to protect the vulnerable by putting ourselves at risk: a mixture of dust and glory.

She was discharged – not ill enough for a bed.