Welcome to The Weobley & Staunton Benefice

This week in the news we saw the bizarre AI generated artwork of Donald Trump issued on social media which depicted him as a Christ-like figure healing a man, surrounded by distant images of US combat forces in action. This posting outraged both Catholics and Protestants within and outside of the USA. It’s also a telling image in terms of what it says about the delusions of power. Go back to medieval times, or to the cultures of the ancient near East, and you encounter many images of rulers who portrayed themselves as gods. However, all were mere mortals and their legacy is now apparent in decaying sculptures, monuments and historical fiction.

We also recently had the result of the Hungarian election, in which the populist ‘Christian nationalist’ leader Viktor Orban was ousted by a significant majority of voters. His legacy was one of national division, a government mired in corruption and a destructive alliance with Russia. Could this be the beginning of a European pendulum swing away from politicians who appoint themselves as saviours harking back to past glories?

What’s intriguing about the gospels is how the glory of Christ as Messiah is so often hidden from view. Unlike the populist leaders and dictators of this world - who thrive on self-aggrandisement and cultivate a public image of self-styled glory - we see Jesus telling his disciples that his identity as Messiah should remain a secret. In our gospel reading from Luke 24, the identity of Jesus as the risen Christ is hidden in plain sight from his two companions on the road to Emmaus. This identity is only revealed to them when he breaks bread with them at the table: a surprising moment that reveals the profound reality of ‘my body broken for you’. From this moment on, these disciples must learn to jettison their worldly ideas of a political messiah and embrace the glory of a servant king who was ‘crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God’ (2 Cor. 13:4).  Jesus models for us a humble, sacrificial model of leadership which is entirely at odds with the kingdoms of this world.

Rev’d Philip

During a recent visit by school children to Weobley Church, a young lad asked me: ‘Why did Jesus have to die?’ It was, at the same time, a wonderfully naïve and profound question, and one that has exercised theologians for centuries.  My reply centred on Jesus choosing to die so that we might have life. One writer who captured this idea eloquently and personally was John Donne, in his poem from 1609, Resurrection.

Moist with one drop of Thy blood, my dry soul
Shall—though she now be in extreme degree 
Too stony hard, and yet too fleshly—be 
Freed by that drop, from being starved, hard or foul, 
And life by this death abled shall control 
Death, whom Thy death slew ; nor shall to me 
Fear of first or last death bring misery, 
If in thy life-book my name thou enrol. 
Flesh in that long sleep is not putrified, 
But made that there, of which, and for which it was; 
Nor can by other means be glorified. 
May then sin's sleep and death soon from me pass, 
That waked from both, I again risen may 
Salute the last and everlasting day.

I hope and pray you have a blessed Easter season.

Philip