Dear Friends
For what do I pray? Do I pray for my own repentance, for the strength and power to forgive others, for mercy to come down upon all? Or do I pray for others to repent, for others to forgive me when I have wronged them, for mercy to come down upon me? I, so easily, place myself at the centre of prayer and one can wonder if there is any place for others—indeed, any place for God—left. I pray, and I place myself at the centre; I pray, and I focus on me; I pray, and God is only peripheral to my prayer.
“You have heard that it was said,” says the Lord,
‘You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.’
Matthew 5:43–45
But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you,
that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.
Since it is an underlying principle, assumed here, that we pray for others—even those who spitefully use us and persecute us. We pray for all. The Lord tells us how we should pray.
And when you pray, you shall not be like the hypocrites. For they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the corners of the streets, that they may be seen by men. Assuredly, I say to you, they have their reward.
Matthew 6:5–8
But you, when you pray, go into your room, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in the secret place; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly.
And when you pray, do not use vain repetitions as the heathen do. For they think that they will be heard for their many words.
Therefore do not be like them. For your Father knows the things you have need of before you ask him.
And so we pray—not in expectation of a reward, not so that I may receive something which I otherwise might not receive, not as a magical incantation, but to place myself in the presence of God and to bring others into that presence that his peace and mercy may permeate our world.
We pray not expecting answers, though we may always bring questions; we pray not demanding God to act in a certain way but that we ourselves may be purified, enlivened and transformed; we pray and we accept the answer to our prayer will be through us taking up our own cross.
We pray.
Let us then, my dear brothers and sisters in Christ, remove ourselves from the centre of our prayer and place God there, let us pray that we ourselves may repent, that we receive mercy, that we become the agents of God in our world.
Let us pray.
We serve a meal following the Liturgy on Sundays. All are welcome.
Do you, or someone you know, want to join our mailing list and receive our weekly email? Then let me know.
Sermon
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, one God, Amen.
We mourn, dear brothers and sisters in Christ, and we weep over the dead. The one whom we love has been taken from us and we are at a loss what to do. But, when we lament over the death of a loved one we do so as having hope in the Resurrection, “For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with him those who sleep in Jesus,” (First Thessalonians 4:14) as the Apostle tells us. Our tears, therefore, are our expression of love, of sadness at being separated yet tempered with the knowledge that we may be united again through Christ.
What is the more tragic in my Christian life, more so than my crying at the falling asleep of one whom I love, is that I do not cry and weep at my sins. I have become so accustomed to sin that I merely shrug my shoulders and lie, “well, what else could I do?” Or, even worse, I have surrounded myself with so much sin that I do not even notice it—the graffiti on the walls of my soul have become so numerous I do not even remember how it was once decorated. I have separated myself from God, separated myself from my husband, and I carry my soul—my life—out of the city walls on a bier to be buried and my life to end in death among the tombs. I am a widow, with none left to save me.
And “Behold, the Bridegroom comes,” to me. I have not called on him, sought him out, but he comes nevertheless. He comes and restores my soul to life. He comes and both says the Word and brings me into contact with his flesh and I am no longer a widow but have life. And the wood of the bier—if I am to receive him, if I am to have life—becomes the wood of the Cross by which I crucify my sinful self and may rise in his Resurrection.
…
Read last Sunday’s Sermon, Mourn and lament.
Archive of Past Sermons.
Services this week
Friday 13th October
Discussion on the Divine Liturgy, 8 pm
Online only
Saturday 14th October
Great Vespers, 6.30 pm
At St Francis’ Hall, Eastleigh
Sunday 15th October
Matins & Divine Liturgy, 9 am
At St Francis’ Hall, Eastleigh
Online session is via Google Meet: please get in contact for the details.
Please join us: all are welcome, come and see.
Attending Church
We meet at St Francis’ Hall, Nightingale Avenue, Eastleigh, SO50 9JA. Come and See.
Can I help you?
I am here for you, you need only ask. Is there a way I can support your life of faith? Get in touch.
Can you help the parish?
Yes, absolutely. Offer yourselves to the Lord: pray! Make available to him all your talents and ask him how he would like you to use them — listen for his reply.
Your prayers!
With love in Christ
Fr Alexander
[email protected]