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Please note: Sunday Worship Maggi Good morning. We welcome you all to our service this morning. Here in the College Chapel, the Fellows, Staff and Students are gathered to reflect on the meaning of Remembrance. We'll be giving thanks for those who've given their lives in the service of their country in the wars of recent history and also in current conflicts. Robinson College was founded in the late 1970's, and within a few years grew to become one of the larger colleges in Cambridge, renowned for its relaxed and friendly style. The Chapel has always been one of the central features of the College, with a lively programme of services and musical events. As we gather for worship today, our first hymn is a prayer of hope and trust in the God who won't abandon us or let us go, even in times of doubt and trouble: HYMN: O love that wilt not let me go H&P 685 omit verse 2 (St Margaret) 1. O Love that wilt not let me go, Morna O Lord, open our lips Morna When we cry out to the Lord in our trouble, Morna God will bring us out of darkness Morna Most merciful God, Maggi May the Father of all mercies Morna Almighty Father, Maggi One of the most famous poems of the First World War was Lawrence Binyon's poem, "For the Fallen." Every year these poignant words remind us that the action and aftermath of war often come at a terrible price, both for those who lay down their lives, and for those who mourn them. Poem: For the Fallen - Lawrence Binyon Here are these words, set to music by Mark Blatchley CHOIR: Blatchly's setting of Binyon's For the Fallen 3' 40" Alastair A reading from the second Epistle of Paul to the Thessalonians, chapter 3, beginning at verse 16: "6 Now we command you, beloved, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to keep away from believers who are living in idleness and not according to the tradition that they received from us. 7For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us; we were not idle when we were with you, 8and we did not eat anyone's bread without paying for it; but with toil and labour we worked night and day, so that we might not burden any of you. 9This was not because we do not have that right, but in order to give you an example to imitate. 10For even when we were with you, we gave you this command: Anyone unwilling to work should not eat. 11For we hear that some of you are living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work. 12Now such persons we command and exhort in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work quietly and to earn their own living. 13Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right." HYMN: Dear Lord and Father of Mankind 1. Dear Lord and Father of mankind, Maggi (Sermon Part 1): It is thought that Paul wrote this letter to the Thessalonians to correct some mistaken ideas about how the early Christians should behave. The Thessalonians were getting very worked up about rumours of wars and disasters, because they thought Christ would return any day, and that the world as they knew it would come to an end. Some of them became despondent; and others simply decided to enjoy themselves, thinking there was no point in planning for the future. And so they'd disengaged from any genuine connection to the life of the world around them. But Paul said that it might be some considerable time before Christ returned in glory, and urged the Thessalonians to re-engage with life in the real world, and find out how their faith worked out in practical, everyday terms. This message might almost have been written for us today. For we, too, might easily begin to believe that the world is careering towards disaster, and respond by putting our heads in the sand, or by becoming excessively negative. When conflict seems beyond resolution, it's tempting to think that there's nothing we can do, and to retreat into our own little world. In calling his readers to re-engage with the world, and get a clearer picture of the future, Paul recommended that they do two things: remember, and imitate. They should remember their own sufferings, and the sufferings of those Christians who'd died during times of persecution. They should remember, and imitate, those who taught them their faith; So in calling them to a clearer vision of the future, Paul called his readers to remember their past. What sort of remembering are we called to? Recently I talked to a man who'd fought in the second world war, and he questioned WHY we remember - sometimes, he said, I think it might be better to forget. This reminded me of something Winston Churchill said, not long after the end of the Second World War - 'We must draw a veil over all the horrors of the past," he said. The truth, though, is that without remembering the past, we're not able to move forward. Repressed memories lead to neurosis. In order to embrace the future, we first have to come to terms with our past and our present. In the famous words of the American philosopher George Santayana, "those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it." We need to remember - the shameful as well as the glorious, and the tragic as well as the triumphant. St Paul called us to remember, and also to imitate: "imitate us," he said, "as we imitate Christ." He didn't just mean mimicking - trying to copy or clone someone else's life. He meant living - as Christ himself did - in the power of God's spirit, tuned in to the presence of God in his life. He was talking about being fully alive, thoroughly engaged with God and with the world around us. So Paul's telling of the gospel doesn't dismiss the troubles of this life in favour of looking for eternity. Instead, he calls us to plant our feet firmly in the messy world we live in, and discover the presence of God right in the middle of it. And, as we shall see later, the words of Christ also call us to find God in the reality of the present. CHOIR: Taverner - Song for Athene (abridged version) 3' 10" Roxanne: A reading from the gospel of Luke chapter 21, beginning at verse 5: 5 When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, he said, 6'As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.' 7They asked him, 'Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?' 8And he said, 'Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, "I am he!" and, "The time is near!" Do not go after them. 9'When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately.' 10Then he said to them, 'Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; 11there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven. 12'But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. 13This will give you an opportunity to testify. 14So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; 15for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. 16You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death. 17You will be hated by all because of my name. 18But not a hair of your head will perish. 19By your endurance you will gain your souls.CHOIR: Agnus Dei (Britten) 3' 30" Maggi (Sermon Part 2): In his War Requiem, Benjamin Britten threaded the poems of Wilfrid Owen through the words of the Requiem Mass. The Agnus Dei, which we've just heard, is usually the concluding part of a Mass, and has a sense of peaceful, though poignant acceptance, of the sacrifice of Christ. Britten's twist is to draw a parallel between Christ's sacrifice, and that of the soldiers who laid down their lives in war. Britten's Agnus Dei does convey a feeling of acceptance, but its musical style seems unresolved, which seems to leave a question-mark hanging in the air. When I was a teenager, the fashion came in for wearing stickers - stickers on your book covers, on your record sleeves, on your clothes and your school bag; stickers with little slogans on them that said something about your musical taste, your politics, or your religious leanings. I remember sporting a sticker on my school bag that said, in large letters, "Jesus is the answer". But underneath in small print, it said, "what's the question?" People of faith naturally turn to their religion for answers. We see all kinds of problems in the world. In recent months we've looked in horror as hostages have been taken and murdered, and others have died in terrorist acts. There's so much unrest in our world, and we don't know how to restore ourselves to peace. Today, as we pause to commemorate those whose lives have been cut short in conflicts past and present, we do so in the sober knowledge that we've not yet discovered how to stop the world from going to war. When we face this kind of distress, both in our own lives, and on a national and international scale, we long to find in the Gospel some solace, some promise that things might be different, some kind of concrete answer. But one of the surprises of the gospel is that instead of giving us clear answers, Jesus seems to leave us with more questions. Our gospel reading records one of the strange and difficult sayings of Jesus. He warns that there will be "wars and insurrections" and says, "do not be terrified; for these things must take place". "Do not be terrified"? Surely there must be some mistake? Who could not be terrified in such times? Why doesn't Jesus give us answers, or solutions to our fear and uncertainty? In a world that seems to grow increasingly dangerous, Jesus doesn't offer us an escape route, but he does call us to trust in the God who's promised to be with us even to the end of the age - to be with us, even when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Jesus doesn't promise to insulate us against conflict, pain, or betrayal; but he does give us a means of facing real life with courage and hope. By taking on flesh and blood, Jesus made God real in our everyday human experience. And when, in times of trouble, we find strength beyond our own capabilities, we know that this is God at work within us. Bonhoeffer, a theologian writing during the second world war, claimed that if we expect God to answer the big, ultimate questions - death, life, guilt - we actually push God to the edge of our lives, making God an abstract idea, not a concrete reality. To discover God only in times of weakness was, for Bonhoeffer, a theology that was far too thin. For him, God was in the everyday, in times of strength and joy, not only in times of anxiety or need. And this was just the experience of a young Canadian fighter pilot, who, towards the end of the second world war, discovered for himself that God is found in everyday life, not just in the abstract questions of life and death. In the process of learning the skills of war, right in the midst of a situation where he was daily confronted by death and danger, he went out one day on a training flight. Up in the air, he was suddenly overcome with the realisation that God was with him, and he was filled with wonder, and joy, and laughter. John Gillespie Magee captured this vision in his poem, High Flight: Poem: High Flight by John Gillespie Magee from the book "Staying Alive: real poems for unreal times" edited by Neil Astley. Published by Bloodaxe Books (2002). CHOIR: Strange light (Jeremy Thurlow) (words by R S Thomas) Roxanne We have heard the words of R S Thomas, set to music by Jeremy Thurlow, a fellow here at Robinson College. In response to these words, let us now turn to prayer: God of Grace, God of Grace Lee God of Love, in your son Jesus Christ you completely shared our human form; in him you understood our passions and our conflicts; in his death you understood the loss of a life cut short. You overcame death with life; teach us the meaning of resurrection. God of Love Roxanne God of compassion, God of compassion ALL hear us and remember us Lee God of Peace, Lee God of Peace Maggi We gather our prayers together in the words Jesus taught us: Our Father, Maggi As we have prayed in faith for peace, and for wisdom, our hope is rooted in something beyond our own good intentions - this hope comes only from the love and grace of God. "God unknown - He alone calls my heart to be His own." HYMN: All my hope on God is founded (NEH 333 omit verse 2) 1. All my hope on God is founded; Maggi The Lord bless you and keep you. All Amen Maggi Let us go in peace Exit music - Organ Voluntary |