麻豆约拍

Music
Meditation on Brother James鈥� Air 鈥� Harold Darke
Chamber Ensemble of London
CD: English Music for Strings (Cameo)

Poem: Take These Words
written and read by Jay Hulme


Introduction

Good morning, I am Jay Hulme, poet, avid church explorer, and Assistant Churchwarden here, at St Nicholas鈥� Church in Leicester. St Nicks is one of the oldest churches in England, having been built in the year 879, 48 years before the country of England even existed.

As we stand outside St Nicks, the first thing you鈥檒l notice is the noise. Wrapped around this tiny ancient church, just a few meters to the south and east is Leicester's inner ring road which, just a few meters past the church, widens to a full ten lanes across. With the road behind us, we see this incongruous church, stood in its small patch of graveyard. Among the grass there鈥檚 a sprinkling of 18th and 19th century graves and some re-erected fragments of ancient Roman pillars - a reminder that Leicester is one of England鈥檚 oldest cities. This site, more than most, holds memories of a city long since changed.

Looking up at the church itself, the later addition of a Norman tower peers up over the long south aisle, its two clock faces aligned to a road system which has long since gone. With this in mind, I think it is safe to say that St Nicholas鈥� is a special building, but what makes it a special church is the community within it. St Nicks has a very small, and sparsely populated, parish, mostly comprised of half-demolished factories on the edge of a canal. In the 1980鈥檚 and 90鈥檚, shortly after the ring road demolished what dense housing was left, the community here was called to a new ministry, one of radical inclusion, particularly ministering to members of the LGBT community from across the city, and some from far beyond it. This ministry continues to this day. Scattered among emblems of faith across the building, like the cross on the altar, and images of St Nicholas, are various flags - from the trans flag in the porch, to the rainbow flag on the altar, to the small strips of rainbow ribbon which can be found everywhere; from the small church kitchen, to the pulpit, and, at the moment, even blocking off pews to ensure social distancing.

Welcome to St Nicholas鈥� Church.

Hymn
Be still for the presence of the Lord
St Philip鈥檚 Boys Choir
CD: Angel Voices at Christmas (Crimson)

Jay Hulme
As a very small, very poor, church, we know what it means to have to truly rely on God to provide. And provide She does. Even as Covid swept the city, keeping churches here closed far longer than anywhere else in the country, St Nicks stayed afloat, adding new parishioners, scraping together funds, praying, and growing in community, and keeping this church alive.

Lord鈥檚 Prayer
Led by Rev Karen Rooms, Priest in charge at St Nicholas Church.

Beloved Creator, who art in all things,
Holy, be Thy name,
Thy Kingdom come among us,
Thy will be done through us -
on this Earth
as it is in Heaven.

Give us, today, that which sustains us,
and forgive us our erring,
as we forgive those
who act against us.

And lead us not into wrong things,
but deliver us from harm;
for Thine is the Kingdom,
the power, and the glory,
forever and ever,
Amen.

Jay Hulme
LGBT inclusion in the Church of England is so often seen as a fraught and difficult topic, something to be argued about, and questioned, but at St Nicks, there is no question, and no argument.

In many ways, our inclusion is our greatest strength. Our love for LGBT people is not the chink in our armour, but the armour itself. And it is of armour that our first reading speaks.

Reading
Ephesians 6:10-20

Music
Be thou by vision 鈥� arr. John Rutter
Cambridge Singers
CD: Sing, ye heavens 鈥� Hymns for all time (Collegium)

Reflection: Rev Karen Rooms
At St Nicks we engage with the Bible using a technique called 鈥淒welling in the word鈥� and we ask two questions: What word or phrase caught your attention? And if there was a biblical scholar among us, what question would you ask them?

The word that caught my attention was the word struggle. Everyone who comes through these doors today - and for centuries before us - have brought their struggles here,听 and found a quiet place to pray, to think, to cry and offer their hurt, to a tender love that is wild and free. These walls have witnessed disappointments, aggressions, and loss. And after all, Covid 19 has not been the first plague in the church鈥檚 history.

I鈥檝e been aware of struggles folk have carry here - like personal worries about exams through to dealing with societal attitudes and structures of power that say no to who people are. I remember a funeral where the deceased man鈥檚 long term lover was merely acknowledged as his friend as he carried the pain of not being able to hold the man he had loved as he died. Sacred building like this are places we can bring our struggles and sense we are heard , understood, seen, and loved.

The question I would ask a biblical scholar is what is the balance between relying on God 鈥� be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power 鈥� and taking responsibility for ourselves. Can we just rely on God and do nothing or is it all about the fight and struggle? Are we really called to be onward Christian soldiers? Perhaps both polarities are traps 鈥� to abdicate all the responsibility for our wellbeing and good in the world to God. Or to be so absorbed with defending ourselves (and maybe justifying ourselves) that we get exhausted and over attached to the fight?

These words remind me to rely on God for power, energy, strength to keep going and t hook myself up into that power and presence to pray in the Spirit and they are a prod to equip ourselves and wear the right clothing for the task, like a nurse wearing PPE or a joiner with her toolbox, those of us who follow Jesus鈥� way have recommended clothing 鈥� truth telling, willingness to speak about the acceptance and peace which is God鈥檚 gift, trust in God鈥檚 strength, and holding onto, and holding out, the truth we believe in.

Music
Be thou by vision 鈥� arr. John Rutter
Cambridge Singers
CD: Sing, ye heavens 鈥� Hymns for all time (Collegium)

Jay Hulme
Here we are beneath the central tower. Added as part of the first big overhaul of the pre-Norman church, the tower seems fairly plain until you stand right beneath it and notice the blind arcading wrapping around the inside. Rows of columns, occasionally interrupted with signs of the archways between them having been opened up for some ancient purpose or other.听

The tower would have been the heart of a cruciform church when it was added around a thousand years ago. Now the building it鈥檚 the heart of is a lot more chaotic, with centuries of additions and alterations swirling around it - a 13th century chancel, a 19th century north aisle, and to the west, still standing firm, that 9th century nave, with its ancient windows, staring out into what is now the inside of the church.

It is here that we find a lot of the life of the church. Mason鈥檚 marks from when the tower was first built, plaques commemorating renovations, the ropes for the now static-hung bells, and the choir stalls, beneath which are the stuff of church life. The piles of extension leads, boxes of craft supplies, old and new banners, random leaflets, duct tape, and the occasional pride flag, a strange and miscellaneous collection of objects which keep this church afloat.

Sometimes, when I鈥檓 alone in the church I walk through here and sit on the step in the chancel, right up against the altar, and listen to the clock that鈥檚 sat just above our heads, the sound of its ticking trickling down the tower and into the church.

The peace and joy to be found here is obvious when you are standing in the space, but it is not something I ever expected to find. I joined St Nicks during Covid, open about my status as a proud trans man, and adult convert to Christianity. In St Nick's I found a church in which I, and others like me, are celebrated, exactly as we are. Where our queerness is integral to who we are as people, but incidental to how we are treated in church.

It is here that I was baptised, here that I found the true meaning, joy, and community, provided by a loving, Christ-filled church, and it is here that I truly realised how integral communion is to this strange faith that I had all but stumbled into.

Music
Eat this bread, drink this cup - Taize
St Martin鈥檚 Voices
麻豆约拍 recording

Reading
John 6: 56-69

Music
Eat this bread, drink this cup - Taize
St Martin鈥檚 Voices
麻豆约拍 recording

Reflection 鈥� Jay Hulme
鈥淲hen many of his disciples heard it, they said, 'This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?'鈥� A statement that, as an adult convert to Christianity I completely understand. There is something utterly surreal about communion. Whether the Jesus we consume is literally Jesus, or metaphorically Jesus, or let鈥檚 not talk about this right now Jesus, there is no denying that it鈥檚 weird.

For the disciples, it was even more difficult. Consuming blood was prohibited. A prohibition so vital it is repeated in Genesis, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy, and yet here was Jesus, telling them to drink blood, his blood, and, what is more, to eat his flesh. But not just to eat. The original Greek word used here is 鈥楾rogon鈥�, better translated as 鈥榯o gnaw鈥�.

What Jesus was asking of his followers, what Jesus asks of us, is shocking. To gnaw upon his flesh. To drink his blood. Blood which is life. It鈥檚 so shocking we sanitise it. We do not gnaw, we eat. We sanitise what scares us, we bury it beneath kinder translations. But Jesus did not. Jesus offended the sensibilities of those around him, not through rudeness, but through truth.

One of these truths is this, that 鈥渘o one can come to [Jesus] unless it is granted by the Father.鈥� And so many have come. For two thousand years, people have come. Here, at St Nicks, the people who come are often seen as shocking. The people who come often offend sensibilities. But still they come - for as the disciples said, to whom else can we go? Jesus Christ has the words of eternal life, and we have come to believe.

Each one of us at St Nicks is called by God, and has followed that calling despite all the difficulties therein. Despite ancient prohibitions, and societal taboos, we follow Jesus鈥� command: to love, and to treat others as we would treat him. To love in a way that defies societal rules and expectations, and offends sensibilities. To love bravely and boldly, without shrinking or sanitising the things which scare us.

So we gnaw on his flesh, and we drink of his blood, and God is present, here, among us.

Music
Love divine, all loves excelling - Howard Goodall
Choir of Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford
CD: Howard Goodall - Eternal Light: A Requiem

Prayers
Led by Rev Karen Rooms and members of the congregation

Jay Hulme
We head up, now, into the parts of St Nicks people rarely see. Through the vestry, scattered with the chaos of active ministry, past the vast organ case, and up the great wooden ladder. We run our hands along wood older than we will ever be, touch our hands against stones coaxed into shape by people we will never know. As we slip through an opening in the tower wall - a wall well over a meter thick, a wall that has switched between being internal and external more times than we can know - we head into the clock room. Here, in the hidden places of the church, far from the fussing hands of Victorian masons, we find the quiet truths of this place. Rows of two thousand year old bricks, set in herringbone lines. Wooden beams half-eaten by long-defeated deathwatch beetles, a thick carpet of dust. Against the south wall is the clock itself, counting the time, bearing us, ever onwards, second by second, away from the world in which this place was built. A world so ancient as to be inconceivable. When Richard III came to Leicester, he would have seen this tower, then adorned with a grand spire - and when he looked upon this place, all those centuries ago, it was nearer to today, than to when this church was first built.

Running our hands over these walls, we head up again, up a wooden ladder, the missing rung lovingly but chaotically replaced with an old broom handle. Up through a trapdoor, into the top of the tower, a room scattered with bells, and, to the west, a warped door. Outside, the roof. Views over the excavated roman ruins to the west. To the south east, the Cathedral, spire circled by peregrines. Below our feet, cracked and patched lead. Below that, the nave. A space that has been set aside for prayer for well over a thousand years. A space that, God willing, will continue to be filled with prayer, and a loving community, for well over a thousand more.

Music
The Mission: Gabriel鈥檚 Oboe
Yo-Yo Ma
CD: Yo-Yo Ma plays Ennio Morricone (Sony)

Poem: Cathedralsong
written and read by Jay Hulme

Blessing
Rev鈥檇 Canon Karen Rooms

May the outrageous welcome of the Father,
accept us for who we are.
May the incarnation of the Word
touch and hold us close;
may the wandering of the Spirit
help us risk ourselves for love
and the blessing of God,
Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer
rest and remain with you,
Amen.

听