The residents and staff at Greenacres, Helme Hall and Stable Court have received the hearts, made by Christians in Meltham. These Hearts are firstly a gift from Christians in Meltham to say thanks to the Staff in our care homes, the unsung heroes, key workers who have faced huge challenges and yet who have quietly got on with caring for the very vulnerable – and carrying out many more unsung tasks. The hearts are to remind them that they are not forgotten. We want them to know that they are valued and appreciated.
The residents in our local homes, have been missing out on the most human interactions, unable to hug or be hugged, many isolated from their families and those who love them. The hearts are to remind them that they are not forgotten.
Secondly the Hearts are a reminder that at this time, we remember the Easter story – that God’s love is so amazing, loving us without limits.
We have taken time for reflecting on the lives of some of the characters who were touched by Jesus. We have given thought to what it meant to them as they journeyed with Him close or on the fringe. Palm Sunday Celebration now
behind us, we move into Monday of Holy Week. We hear from Mary Magdala who was set free from Demons. Mary Magdala with the other Marys and the many other women were the ones who were at the foot of the cross and were there at the burial of Jesus.
Opening Prayer
Almighty Father, who sent your only Son Jesus Christ to save us from our sin, show me how I can honour you and bring glory to your name, by walking in the way of Jesus. Give me grace and mercy as I try and fail, guidance when I’m not sure which way to go, and wisdom to trust you in all things. For your love brings light and life to all who seek it. May I seek you evermore as I walk with you through this Holy Week and beyond. Amen.
Mary of Magdala
He came to my lakeside town and looked at me. I, the turbulent, unmanageable, frustrated one, felt all the acceptance I’d never met till then. At last, my gifts had a place, and my faith was not in vain. I followed him on the road. Me the clever, emotional one, with Joanna to make us prudent, Susanna to remind us of stories, and Salome to keep us respectable. Seven demons were released as I was given my right to my gifts! He knew the years of suppression, the infantile roles with no place for my soul. And he released me. There were others with other gifts, better gifts. I heard of the Gentile woman who mouthed him, laughed with him, got what she wanted from him; the woman who had to draw water at midday, who argued with him; and little Mary from Bethany who saw further than any of us, all the way to the cross.
‘Be a good Jew,’ he told me, ‘use your gifts to the utmost. God gave women gifts as good as men’s. Take yours and use them, fill the world with love and witness. You’ll be crucified too. They’ll take your name from you, mock you and make you small in the eyes of the world. You’ll be rolled into one with prostitutes and madwomen. But not in my eyes,’ he said: ‘Come follow me.’
I was there with him, as close as we could get, as he rolled in torment, hearing him when he could speak, seeing how he gave, even at the end. I saw him die. I heard the officer take heed of his goodness. I saw other hanged men dispatched from their misery at last, to keep the Sabbath pure.
Then we buried him. Hastily but decently, honouring the body of the best of Jews, who hung accursed on a tree and to us was the heart of love, and our hope and light. All extinguished. We asked why God had let this be done. And how do we live out his teaching when this was done to him by his world? Have we courage enough for the cold years ahead? Among such a mix of people with conflicting claims.
We were the witnesses. When two or three are gathered in my name. But what had we witnessed? How the bravest can die well? We kept and wept the Sabbath, the coldest Sabbath, recalling all he had taught of acceptance, freedom, welcome into the heart of the Creator. We were left clinging to bare, chilly faith of the mind alone where the spirit lay buried in the tomb.
Love casts out fear, we knew. Those days had not prepared us for hope. We went in the dark to evade danger where we could. Like him, we stepped aside where needful. The tomb lay open, robbed. We were dismayed, afraid of the new message. Then coming to meet us, where we were, stretching our hearts, came the story. ‘Do not be afraid. Peace I give you, my peace I bequeath you. Go, tell the others. Share the good news. I will be with you wherever you go, till the end of time.’
I was there, the leader, my demons dissolved in the sunrise. His choice of witness and apostle to the Twelve. The story we told was no cold faith. It went to soldiers, slaves and struggling folk, in the courts of the rich and the home of the comfortable. We talked of hope, of people-power that can change the world, and how Spirit-filled in common life we could confront all trials. As silently, as certainly as Jesus.
We give thanks …
For the risen Christ, casting out all fear, bringing new life on the first day of the week.
For the gifts that God has given, to people of every creed and colour and people and nation, to male and female, rich and poor.
For those who have the courage of leadership throughout the world, who seek to make it a place where all can exercise the fullness of their humanity.
We pray …
For those whose lives are limited by the actions of others, who are held in the grip of poverty, debt, illness, and the contempt of others.
For those who grieve, for their loved ones who have died, for the loss of fullness in their own lives.
For those who have given up, through addiction, overwork, or bitterness, that they may hear rumours of hope and find it blossom in their lives.
For the sadness of our world, with wars and rumours of war, for the tomb of the hidden wars and its scars, in Central Africa; among the refugees from Myanmar abandoned on the open sea; among all who seek to move to find
freedom and fullness.
That Easter may come in our lives and the life of our common world.
Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest! It’s Palm Sunday! Join us in church or online as we celebrate Jesus arriving in Jerusalem on a donkey before turning our attentions to the journey through Holy Week leading up to Good Friday.
9:30am – Morning Prayer from St Bartholomew’s – Meltham (via YouTube) https://youtu.be/V6nhOtMCeeA – Unfortunately, due to technical issues, this service is not available online.
Happy Easter! Welcome to the April edition of the #Meltham Parish magazine. This month it is full of the joys of Easter! Read about the Real Love project and the giving away of hearts and finding pebbles throughout this edition. Also find out more about the new additions to the Crossroads team or how Jill has been keeping busy during lockdown.
Christians in #Meltham have been busy making hearts – 1000 of them! The task brought out hidden talents and developed a real sense of joy and fellowship. Church members have delivered the first batch of Easter Hearts to the three schools in Meltham with this message:
Covid-19 has touched communities all over the world. There has been heart-breaking loss of life and disruption to every sphere of life. We have also experienced the very best: the courage and sacrifice of NHS and social care workers, the emergency services, and key workers; the hard work of teachers preparing lessons online and teaching children who have had to come into school; the pressure on parents to home school and find ways to care for their children, the friendships children have had to put on hold as they have been unable to leave their homes.
These Hearts are firstly a gift from Christians in Meltham to say thanks to the Teachers for battling with remote learning, teaching in bubbles caring for children of key workers and many more unsung tasks. To parents, carers, and children who have done their best in such a challenging situation. They recognise the love of all involved. We want you to know that you are valued and appreciated.
Secondly the Hearts are a reminder that at this time, we remember the Easter story – that God’s love is so amazing. He came to earth in Jesus, loved and lived among us. He understands what life is like. On Good Friday, Jesus died for our sins. Past mistakes, decisions and failures can be put right.
There’s hope! The message of Easter is that death is not the end. There are new beginnings. In these challenging times, we are not alone. We love because Jesus first loved us.
The Hearts remind us of real love. What are you to do with the Hearts?
The Hearts in the cellophane bags are for the children to take home to give to their parents or Carers simply to say “Thank You! for caring – you are special ”
The Hearts in the organza bags are to staff recognising all that has been done to say “Thank You! for caring – you are special”
Please join in the attached prayer throughout this week and on the day for the:-
National Day of Reflection on 23rd March
God of love,
as we think about all that has changed this year,
Help us to trust that you are always with us.
As we remember those who have died,
Help us to trust they are at peace with you.
As we reach out to others with kindness and care,
May hope shine out in every heart and home.
Amen
This week we are coming to the end of the weeks of Lent. Each of those weeks we have focused our attention on one of the lesser reported characters who followed Jesus during His ministry. Rosemary Powers chose thirteen Figures leaving us with six stories untold as we journeyed through Lent. Rosemary’s style of writing has brought life to those she chose to pick out for attention.
I found it difficult to know who to choose for our Reflection. All the stories carry their own weight in the bigger picture of the Passion of our Lord. It feels incomplete leaving these stories untold.
I made my choice after reading through all the reflections trying to balance the stories, we have used so far.
This Week we hear from the sixth Character Mary of Bethany. The following Monday is the start of Holy Week when we hear from Mary of Magdala. Both Marys remained at the cross to the bitter end.
LENTEN REFLECTIONS —WEEK 6
Mary of Bethany
Mary of
Bethany
I am Mary from Bethany, disciple of Jesus, widow, sister of Martha. He came to our home, where I learnt, and he loved us as his sisters, and Lazarus as a brother. Lazarus, our protector in the world of the village and beyond, got ill. He died. Our grief was deep. Our livelihood, the home of hospitality that my sister Martha had made a place of warmth and greeting, was at risk. She, whose heart was big, big enough even to accept in Jesus his wish that I should be taught with the men, she was in danger of being homeless, of having nowhere to exercise her gift, her insight into the needs of all. We might end with nothing but the widow’s mite, at the mercy of distant relatives with their own burdens.
It was a big funeral, close to the centre of power. Jesus’ fate was sealed when love triumphed. He’d come late. I was angry with him. Martha went to meet him. He spoke with her, then asked for me, his disciple who had sat at his feet and listened but had not yet understood. I was full of grief, bewilderment, but I went to him as ever, to sit at his feet, still his disciple in my pain. This time there were witnesses, not only his friends, but others, fellow-mourners, who followed me when I went, to support me at the tomb. And stayed when they found Jesus before us. Jesus who wept with us. He came to the tomb with us. Then he prayed. Martha was practical as ever, but we waited. And wondered. And heard the stirrings of hope and unbound the impossible joy.
I’d heard of what happened in the house of the Pharisee, and when our own Simon gave a party, I copied the woman there, and made it my own. As he took it like a tune and made it his own in turn. I touched the beloved, anointed him, as the week before we had readied our brother for the tomb. No touch was unclean to him. The scent filled the air. My tears were for him, for the thunder was in the air.
We found that time, that opposition was there, even among his friends at the party. ‘Let her alone,’ he said. I, the younger sister, was honoured there, prophet and priest of the Christ who knew no boundaries among those called into being out of love.
We were all in danger, so close to the places of power. The one he called back from the grave we hid away so he would not be killed. They got Jesus though. A few days later he honoured the woman without name. He washed his own followers’ feet. There was no role he would not take. Later that night, he was turned in.
We give thanks …
For those whose mourning has turned into joy, for the return of the lost, for love recognised.
For the joy of company among outcast, traveller, resident and wanderer, and for the gift of hospitality at the heart of our faith.
For the gift of wonder, of companionship with the God who has given us everything, who came into the world and allowed the people he created to show him the next step.
We pray …
For those who grieve, and especially when death strikes before its time. For those who see the pain of others and cannot help, that they may have the grace of being present, and setting their needs and fears aside.
For those who risk loss in the face of hostility. For those whose homes, livelihoods and safety is at stake.
For the courage to be disciples, learning and listening from Jesus and acting prophetically, in the right time and place; to be courageous in Christ when we meet opposition.
We pray for the gift to draw back from using power against those who are vulnerable in our world.
