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 Well, it happened! A week ago, around fifty of us gathered at the lakeside of Nicaea (Iznik, Turkey) to celebrate the anniversary of the Council of Nicaea and the production of the Nicene Creed. In 325 AD the Emperor Constantine, who had granted the church the right to worship freely in the Empire in 313AD, now summoned three hundred bishops from across the Empire to his summer residence at Nicaea to thrash out a controversy that had arisen in the Church. The Presbyter Arius had made the inflammatory statement in Alexandria, and was beginning a movement, in which he stated that, “there was a time when he (Christ) was not”. In other words, Christ, far from being the eternal Word or Logos -described by John in the Prologue to his Gospel as “the Word (who) was with God and the Word (who) was God” (1:1)- was in fact a created being, subordinate to the Father. At a stroke, Arius had suggested that there is not a Trinity at the centre of the universe but rather a single God; and nor could Jesus, as a human, provide an eternal sacrifice for sin and give humanity eternal hope through his Resurrection. Afterall he was just a man!

The Council of Nicaea was summoned to re-express the eternal verities of the faith announced in Scripture and taught by the Apostles.  Indeed, Jesus had himself commanded his disciples to Baptise in the name of the Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit (Mathhew 28: 19). How was the Council to describe the eternal mystery of the Trinity in which three persons invited us into fellowship with them, and together created, redeemed and quickened humanity. They chose their words carefully. Of Jesus, they said, he was “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten not made, of one being (or of the same divine substance) with the Father”. In other words, Jesus fully participated in the Godhead as did the Holy Spirit whose nature and activity was further defined at Constantinople in 381AD in a later Council.  Thus, we, through faith, are invited into a fellowship of three, each contributing to our salvation and ruling together the universe, and into their warmth and love.

 A week ago, we gathered with a group from many nations and laguages, Greek, Syrian, German, Dutch, English, Welsh, Egyptian, Sudanese, American and said the creed in Greek and English: Archbishops, Bishops, clergy and laity. We were welcomed by the Representative of His Holiness the Orthodox Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew who was meeting Pope Leo XIV.  We sang, “The Church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ the Lord”. We prayed the Lord’s Prayer in English and Aramaic. We looked out on the same lake and hills as Constantine and the Bishops had done 1700 years before and in the same month of May.  We were glad that the Nicene Creed had defended and proclaimed a universal truth that however rational it might be to suppose that there was a single God,  God had , in fact, revealed himself as Trinity. In two weeks, we will once again celebrate after Pentecost God the Holy Trinity and no doubt sing, “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.” It was a privilege to have been there in Nicaea and hear those words of truth echo down the centuries.           

One of the Church’s greatest gifts is its ability to bring together people of all ages—babies to great-grandparents—under one roof, singing the same hymns, sharing the same prayers, and holding onto the same hope.

Each generation brings something precious to our life of faith. Children remind us how to trust simply and deeply. I remember a little boy who, when his grandfather was very ill, folded his hands in church and whispered, “I know God hears me, even when I don’t know what to say.” His quiet confidence was a powerful reminder that prayer begins with presence.

Young people often see truth with rare clarity. One shared during youth group, “I don’t know all the answers, but I know Jesus stood with people who felt left out. That helps me get through the week.” Her words reminded us that theology lives not just in books but in school corridors and daily struggles.

Adults often carry heavy loads—caring for others, managing work, and holding families together. One young mother told me, “I don’t get much time to pray, but I talk to God while doing the washing up, in the car, and worrying about my children.” In her honesty, she showed how faith can be woven into the everyday.

Our older generations bring the quiet strength of lived experience. One man nearing the end of his life said, “I’ve had times I didn’t feel God at all. But looking back, I see His footprints through it all.” His assurance, born of a lifetime of walking with God, was deeply moving.

When we gather across generations, we become more than a congregation—we become a living body, rich in memory and full of promise. As it says in Joel 2:28: “Your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.” No voice is too small, no story too old, no person without something to teach or learn.

To truly live this out, we must be intentional. Here are some simple ways we could aim to grow together as a church:

Invite young people to read or lead in services alongside elders.

Pair different generations as prayer partners.

Host story-sharing evenings where older members reflect and younger ones ask questions.

Involve elders in children’s groups to share their faith journeys.

Create skill-swaps—young teaching old and vice versa.

Visit the lonely in mixed-age pairs.

Let us not only share space, but share life—learning, listening, and walking together as one people of God.

With every blessing,

Rev. Annette

Vicar of Walbury Beacon

I was helping to take a service at West Woodhay last week and I got a bit lost in the lanes around there – however I managed to arrive just in time. I apologised and explained that as I had lived and worked in cities, I wasn’t used to country lanes. I also said what beautiful countryside both they, and the other churches in the Benefice live in.

It made me think of my childhood home which was a terraced house on the main road near the city centre of Wolverhampton. This could sound poor in contrast, but it wasn’t. It was a very rich childhood. We were allowed to roam on our own from the age of about eight. Although we were near the city centre, we were also near the canals, fields and trains nearby.

One of my favourite pastimes was to go on a Saturday morning, with a friend, down along the canal to one of the major train sheds at Bushbury. It housed the G.W.R. trains, which also run through this area to London.

But they were all steam trains, and they were magical to a young boy and his friend. The sheds were a huge complex affair, servicing up to a dozen or more trains at a time. It even had huge turntables where you could watch the trains being turned around - everything your heart could desire.

Now officially we were not allowed in the sheds, but when the inspector went off we sneaked in. The men working in there could have turned us out, but they were family men, many with their own young children. They would even allow us to get up on the plate of the train. We would watch the men, coal black, shovelling the coal into the train’s boiler, sweat running down their chests. But the very height of joy for any young child was when they allowed us to pull the chord to sound the train whistle, which gave a mighty sound. Those men were so kind and understanding.

After that we would go to the nearby train station and pull out our train books. We were Train Spotters! In these books were all the number and names of all the different trains. Even their names seemed magical, like the Baden Powell, Barry Castle, Barton Hall and the so powerful but beautiful Flying Scotsman, which if you are interested, is at the Didcot Railway Centre from May 12th to June 2nd.

What has that shown me? That God does indeed provide for our needs, irrespective of where we are born or who we are; he will take care of us, if we let him. This is what the bible teaches:

Know this: my God will also fill every need you have according to His glorious riches in Jesus the Anointed, our Liberating King. Philippians 4:19

John

Dear Friends,

With the birds now in full song, gardens bursting into colour, and village life awakening after a long winter, there’s a palpable sense of new life all around us.

This time of year holds so much promise. As Christians, we mark it with the great feast of Pentecost—the moment when the Holy Spirit descended upon the disciples with wind and flame, sending them out into the world with courage and joy. You can read this extraordinary moment in Acts 2, where we hear: “Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting... All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:2,4). It’s a celebration of birth—the birth of the Church itself—and a powerful reminder that God’s Spirit is alive, active, and present among us.

To mark Pentecost, we’ll be gathering for a special outdoor service at Combe Gibbet at 11am on June 8th —a chance to step out of the walls of our buildings and into God’s creation, much like the disciples were sent out from that upper room to share good news with the world. Do please come and join us and bring a chair or blanket as we celebrate the fire of the Spirit and the life of the Church in our villages today.    

The Sunday before on June 1st there is something a little different but equally joyful: our Annual Pet Service in Kintbury starting at 9.45am. It’s always a delight to welcome your much-loved companions—whether furry, feathered, or scaled—into God’s house for a time of thanksgiving and blessing. Our pets remind us of God's creativity, of loyalty and affection, and of the many ways love finds its way into our lives.

Spring and summer bring another kind of joyful celebration: weddings! One of the great privileges of parish life is walking alongside couples as they prepare to marry. These occasions are more than personal milestones—they are moments of communal hope and sacred promise. Each wedding speaks to God’s covenant with us, to love that endures, and to lives woven together with purpose. As bells ring and flowers are arranged, the church becomes a space of beauty and commitment—both deeply traditional and full of fresh beginnings.  We have been blessed by 12 weddings this year and are praying for each couple as they make that commitment to each other.

Through all these services—Pentecost under open skies, blessings for beloved animals, and joyful wedding vows—the Church shows its enduring place in our villages. Not just as a building, but as a living presence: celebrating, comforting, praying, and walking with people in every season of life.

You are always welcome. Whether it’s for a service, a quiet moment in the church, a village event, or just a conversation—you are part of the story. The Church belongs to us all, and God’s Spirit continues to move through our communities with grace and power.

With every blessing,

Rev. Annette

So here we are in the season of Easter.  After journeying through Lent, we reached Easter Sunday, the special day when we rejoice in the resurrection of Jesus and celebrate the new life that is promised to us all through him.  

It’s very easy, with the benefit of hindsight, and two thousand years of our Christian tradition, to recognise Easter Day as the high point in the Christian story, to understand the resurrection as that climatic moment of victory of life over death, which of course it is.  Everything is clear to us now, everything has all fallen into place.  Christ is risen!   Now it remains for us to celebrate, and live in the light of that truth.

But what we see in the gospel accounts is that Easter joy didn’t break out overnight, it took time for the pieces to come together.  It took time, and experience, for some to be convinced.

Remember the women at tomb, their shock and bewilderment at the absence of Jesus’ body.  Then light dawning, understanding, followed by joy.  Then the response of first disciples when the women told what they had found, the disciples’ unbelief, their disparagement of this crazy story.  We have Peter, impulsive, passionate Peter, who needs to know for himself, he dares to hope, and he is amazed at what he finds at the tomb.  Then we have the disciples on the road to Emmaus, walking with the risen Jesus, just not recognizing that it’s him – until he breaks bread with them.  And then of course there’s poor Thomas, known forevermore as the ‘doubter’.  Thomas who wasn’t around the first Sunday that Jesus appeared to the disciples.  He didn’t see Jesus, and he just couldn’t take their word for it.  He had to see Jesus for himself.  

What I love about these accounts of Jesus’ resurrection appearances is how wonderfully human the stories are!  If the gospel writers had wanted to elaborate their account to impress their readers, the characters surely would have been far more heroic!  Instead, we get a rag tag collection of flawed individuals, confused, bewildered, doubting, all trying to make some sense out of what was going on.  

On the journey of faith there is no ‘one size fits all’!  All of us has a different story, and we need to take care when we compare our experience with others.  We all have a unique story about finding our way to Jesus.  Personally, I take great encouragement and inspiration from Thomas, and his insistence that he see Jesus, and touch his wounds, for himself. Notice how Thomas hadn’t given up, he’d missed out first time around, but he still came back the following week when the disciples were gathered together again.  And wonderfully, Jesus knew what Thomas needed, and graciously met him where he was.     

So, we are in good company if the resurrection seems unbelievable! I think the gospel accounts of Jesus’ appearances give us permission - more than that, give us an invitation - to wonder, to ask questions, to seek out Jesus for ourselves.  However Easter was for each of us, wherever we find ourselves on that journey - whether it be disbelief, confusion, doubt, or hope, assurance, joy - let’s not cast judgement, or be deterred.  Instead, let us continue to press on, seeking out the risen Christ for ourselves. 

Dear Friends,

A May Celebration on the Farm – Rogation with a Difference

The Sunday before Ascension Day has long been known as Rogation Sunday—a time when we traditionally ask for God's blessing on the land, crops, animals, and all those who work to bring food from the soil to our tables. This year, Rogation falls on Sunday, 25th May, and we’ll be marking it with a celebration a little different from the usual.

Rather than walking across the fields as in the past—something that many of our more seasoned congregation now find a little too ambitious—we’re inviting everyone to gather on a local farm for a short outdoor service, followed by tractor rides around the estate. The farm is on an exciting journey towards reducing its use of chemicals, restoring wildflowers and habitats for bees, and nurturing the natural health of the soil—a hopeful and fitting setting for this celebration of creation.

Instead of “beating the bounds” (which traditionally involved quite a bit of bramble-rolling and pond-dunking for young boys!), we’ll be taking a gentler route—perhaps encouraging children to spot wildlife from the safety of a plough trailer!

We’ll be rounding off the morning with a lamb roast and time to enjoy one another’s company over food, in the fresh air of spring. There’ll be a nature quiz for the children, space to relax, and good conversations for all.

So what are we actually celebrating on Rogation? The name comes from the Latin rogare, meaning “to ask.” Historically, this was a time when people asked God’s blessing not just on the land but on their lives and communities. It was also a chance to reconnect with one another and the place they lived—a chance to remember that land, people, and faith are all deeply entwined.

In a world of fast-moving technology and increasing disconnection from nature, there’s something beautifully grounding in gathering to give thanks for the work of farmers and the miracle of growth in field and garden. Farming today is not without its challenges—from unpredictable weather to economic pressure and changing land use. But there are also hopeful stories: of sustainable practices, community-supported agriculture, and a renewed care for creation. Our Rogation celebration is a chance to say thank you, to pray for blessing, and to celebrate the rhythms of the land in our own community.

So do come along—bring friends, bring family, and bring an appetite*! Whether you're a regular churchgoer or not, there's a place for you around the tractor, under the open sky, at the table, or sitting on a straw bale.

With love and prayers,

Rev. Annette

*Lamb roast must be pre-booked with Annette by May 17th and is limited to 100 meals. If full you will be warmly invited to bring a packed lunch.

In the middle of next month, with a group of fellow pilgrims- about forty of us drawn from across Europe and the Middle East- I will be celebrating the Council of Nicaea, and in particular the issuing of the Nicene Creed in 325AD.  Every week in this Benefice we say the Nicene Creed during the Communion Service as a declaration of faith. It is the oldest surviving text that is collectively said by congregations in Britain, and this year we celebrate the 1700th Anniversary of its issuing in Nicaea (Iznik, Turkey). The Apostles Creed, which we use in Morning and Evening Prayer, dates from the fifth century and may well have originated in Gaul (France). The Nicene Creed is therefore the oldest part of our liturgy but the oldest texts used in worship are taken from the Bible which was mostly composed or assembled from 600BC (the time of the Jewish exile) to 100AD.

As it is an Ecumenical Text used by Roman Catholic, Orthodox (except one clause added later the filioque) and Protestant Churches, it will, I am sure, be used in the worship of the Roman Catholic Church in its obsequies for Pope Francis this weekend. We remember Francis and his service to the church with thanksgiving, and especially at this time pray for our Roman Catholic Brethren here in the village of Kintbury at St Cassian’s, as well as churches in Newbury and Hungerford as they move forward, not forgetting the Conclave.

The Council of Nicaea was called by the Emperor Constantine (306-337AD) who had recently become a follower of Christ and had taken both the Western and Eastern Roman Empire back under his rule. An issue had arisen in the church about the status of Christ as being fully God and fully Man. And a presbyter in Alexandira called Arius had begun to teach that Jesus was not the eternal Son of God, but a created being. This had caused great consternation in the church and, following consultation with leaders, it was decided to call the First Ecumenical Church Council to resolve the issue. About 300 Bishops assembled at the summer Palace of the Emperor in Nicaea, just south of Constantinople so recently founded by Constantine himself on the ancient Greek city of Byzantium.  Among other things they agreed the Creed and in particular that Jesus is, “The only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made of one being (substance) with the Father.”  Although at the time almost all the bishops signed up to it, later a number of senior bishops resiled and Constantine’s successors took a more Arian position.   It was not until 381 and a subsequent Council at Constantinople, called by Theodosius I, that the Nicene Creed was affirmed, and somewhat expanded, and this is what we use today.

On May 20 ,1700 years after its first promulgation, I will be attending a Celebration of the Creed led by Patriarch Batholomew of Constantinople. I’ll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, let us especially enjoy using it in church, affirming our belief and hopefully neither earthquakes in Turkey nor demonstrations in Istanbul will get in the way!!

 Patrick Whitworth            

At Easter, we celebrate the greatest comeback story of all time—the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. And beyond the hymns, celebrations, hot cross buns, chocolate, and church services, Easter invites us to reflect on what this means for our lives today.

In a world filled with challenges from news of President Trump’s sudden decision to impose import tariffs that have destabilised the economy to the ongoing areas of brutal conflict around the world, Easter reminds us that death does not have the final word. The resurrection tells us that hope is alive, love is stronger than hate, and light has and will continue to overcome darkness. It’s a message of renewal, a reminder that no matter how tough life gets, there’s always a chance for something new to emerge.

As the days grow longer and the weather warms, we’re also reminded of new life in nature. After a long winter in Spring, the world begins to awaken. Trees bud, and flowers push through the soil, bringing colour and fragrance. It’s one of the simplest yet most powerful reminders of resurrection. When everything seems dead, the natural world comes alive again. The sight of those emerging buds and blossoms lift my soul. They remind me that even in the coldest, darkest seasons, something new is always on the horizon. Just as flowers trust the seasons, we are invited to trust that God is at work, even when we can’t see it.

Of course, not everyone in the world experiences seasonal weather. In tropical regions like parts of Africa, South America, and Southeast Asia, the climate remains warm year-round. Yet even in these places, there’s cyclical renewal—rain comes and goes, crops grow and are harvested, and life continues. No matter where we are, there’s always change and growth.

The resurrection of Jesus is like the first sign of spring. It’s the promise that no matter how dark or cold the winter, new life is always possible. The same power that raised Jesus from the dead is at work in us, bringing hope and renewal. With God, no situation is beyond redemption.

Paul writes in Romans 6:4, "We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life." Easter calls us to embrace that new life. The resurrection isn’t just an event to remember; it’s an invitation to live in the hope of restoration and transformation.

The resurrection is a present reality. With God, all things are possible. We are invited to rise from the challenges of life, knowing that God is always bringing new beginnings.  He is, after all, a God of surprises.

Happy Easter!

Revd Annette

This week is Palm Sunday, the red-carpet event of Holy Week. We celebrate Jesus riding into Jerusalem, hailed as a king—complete with palm branches, coats on the ground, and a donkey. It's an event brimming with excitement, anticipation, and, let’s be honest, a little bit of irony. Here’s Jesus, the Son of God, provocatively arriving at the city, but instead of riding in like a mighty ruler, He’s riding on a humble donkey. And the people treat it like the royal event of the year, shouting "Hosanna!" and waving palm branches, almost as though they’re attending a grand parade. What was going through the minds of those who were waving those branches?

They were expecting something big—something powerful, something royal. A king who would overthrow the Romans, restore Israel’s former glory, and maybe even ride in on a magnificent war horse, like kings in the past. Instead, they got a king on a donkey. How did they reconcile their expectations of a conquering hero with this quiet, humble arrival? 

Jesus wasn’t coming to fulfil their vision of a military leader. He wasn’t coming to set up an earthly kingdom. Instead, He came to bring a different kind of victory—one that looked more like service and sacrifice than glory and power. Jesus was showing us that the Kingdom of God is radically different from any kingdom we expect. It’s not about power, control, or conquest—it’s about humility, love, and service.

How many kings—or politicians for that matter—do you know who would choose to arrive in a Skoda rather than a Bentley? It’s like showing up to a job interview in flip-flops—unexpected, unconventional, yet somehow, it fits. It was exactly what the people didn’t anticipate, and in doing so, it revealed the very nature of God’s kingdom. Jesus didn’t come to flaunt His power; He came to demonstrate the depth of His love for us through humility and sacrifice.

And this wasn’t some random decision on Jesus’ part. It was the fulfilment of prophecy. Zechariah 9:9 says, “Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey.” Jesus was making a theological statement that the Kingdom of God is not what we expect. It doesn’t operate by the world’s standards of power but rather by the standards of grace, love, and self-sacrifice.

Why do we so often expect God to show up in grand, dramatic ways? How many times do we wait for that thunderous miracle, that earth-shattering sign, when in reality, God is more likely to show up in the quiet, humble moments of our lives? Could it be that, like the crowd, we are waiting for a red carpet when God is offering us instead a dusty road and a donkey? The spectacle isn’t the point; the purpose is.

Palm Sunday is just the beginning of the journey toward Easter. The crowd cheered for Jesus that day, but just days later, many of those same voices would shout, “Crucify Him!” It’s a reminder that expectations can change quickly, and the same people who welcomed Jesus with joy would later be the ones questioning who He really was. How often do we find ourselves in that same place—shifting our expectations when things don’t go the way we hoped?

While we might laugh at the absurdity of donkeys, palm branches, and spontaneous parades, there’s a deeper truth here: the King of Kings doesn’t need our applause or fanfare to be Lord of all.

He doesn’t need grandeur to accomplish His purpose. And perhaps, just maybe, let’s open our eyes a little more to see Him in unexpected places. Because sometimes, the biggest blessings come not on a war horse, but on a donkey.

Where might we be overlooking His presence in the quiet, unassuming moments of our lives?

Love and prayers

Revd Annette

Light in the Darkness

What are the things that really matter to you? Is it someone’s kindness you remember, or their wise words when you really needed them?

My dad was in the First World War and was in the Somme. He was invalided out after a mustard gas attack, which nearly killed him. It profoundly affected who he was and the way he lived his life.

He was invariably kind and thoughtful to whoever he met. He met mom between the wars, when she had been left with two young children to bring up on her own. No easy task then, never mind now. She went on to have a further two boys with him, but he treated all of us exactly the same.

As we grow up, and reach our teens, we can easily discard what our moms and dads teach us, thinking we know more than them. But to be honest, as I have grown older many of my dad’s wise sayings have come back to me, and I find them so useful in my day-to-day life.

When I remember him now, I realise he lived a life of thankfulness. It would have been easy, I would have thought, for him to be resentful and perhaps embittered. He was sent as a young man of seventeen onto the battlefields in France, into the living hell that was trench warfare. Yet the only comment he made, when I asked him about it, was that he felt a deep sorrow for the friends he had lost on that battlefield. He was also eternally grateful, that for a reason he didn’t understand, he survived it and lived.

In the darkness he had found the light that John talks about in his gospel, when he talks about Jesus.

5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1:5 N.I. V.)

May we too live in that light, and not allow the darkness that can exist in this world to overcome us.

John Seabridge