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On Sunday, we celebrated Christ the King, a powerful reminder that Christ’s reign is not defined by power, superiority, or control, but by humility, love, and service. In a world that often associates leadership with dominance and status, Christ’s example stands in stark contrast. His leadership is not about finding fault, remaining distant, or seeking personal advantage. It is about coming alongside others, serving with kindness, and building up the community in love. As Philippians 2:5-7 teaches us, “In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.”

Last week, Jenny pre-empted me by sharing her reflections on the Advent Experience, focusing on her role leading one of the stations. This week I would like to offer a broader perspective. In the days leading up to the event, I found myself worrying. Would there be enough hands? Enough volunteers to make the event meaningful? But my concerns were quickly dispelled as so many of you stepped forward with enthusiasm and generosity. This is what true leadership looks like—humble, focused on others, and committed to building up the community.

It was heartwarming to see how much the young people gained from the Advent experience. At the interactive stations, their excitement and joy were palpable. They weren’t just having fun—they were genuinely eager to connect with the deeper message of the season. Their enthusiasm wasn’t just for the activities; it was for the spiritual growth that was taking place. These moments weren’t only about engaging the children; they were about nourishing their spirits and inviting them into the story of hope, peace, joy, and love. As I watched them participate, I was deeply moved by their genuine desire to grow in faith, as well as their eagerness to connect with one another. It reminded me of the beauty of working together to serve and build each other up—a reflection of Christ’s call for us to be humble servants.

This same spirit of humility and service was evident during the Kintbury Christmas Fair. When a crisis arose, and the event faced potential setbacks, a small group of helpers immediately came together to ensure that Father Christmas and the children’s craft activities could go ahead as planned. Their quick thinking, readiness to help, and selflessness were inspiring. This experience reminded me that leadership, especially in times of uncertainty, requires humility—recognizing the needs around us and being willing to serve wherever there is need.

Similarly, a wonderful family of volunteers has been quietly organising a beautiful Nativity, bringing families together in a shared experience of love, creativity, and community. These moments—whether at the Christmas Fair, the Advent Experience, or the Nativity—are just a few examples of the power of working together in service to others. They remind me that each small act of service, no matter how simple, contributes to the greater good of our community. Every gesture matters.

As Henri Nouwen wrote, “The way to peace is through service, and service means to be available to others, to be a helper without seeking any reward.” This quote beautifully captures the essence of Christ’s leadership—serving others without seeking recognition or reward. Whether in the schools, at the Christmas Fair, or through the Nativity, our volunteers embodied this principle. They served not for applause, but out of love and humility, just as Christ did. And through this service, we experience not only peace but also a deeper sense of connection and purpose.

One moment that particularly stood out to me during the Advent Experience was when a young student shared how the glass stone he had received reminded him of how precious and loved he was. His simple but profound words left a lasting impression on me. It was a powerful reminder of how small acts of service can have a lasting impact—shaping lives and deepening faith in ways we may never fully see. This child’s words embodied the very essence of what we hope to impart: that each person is valued, each life matters, and every act of kindness is a reflection of God’s love.

As we move forward, I want to acknowledge that not everyone may be able to serve in the same way, and that’s perfectly okay. Some of us are in a season where physical or other limitations make it harder to volunteer or give. And yet, even in these circumstances, your presence and prayers are invaluable. Your support, your encouragement, your compassion—these are acts of service too, just as powerful and meaningful as any tangible contribution. Service is not only in what we do, but in how we love, listen, and care for each other. Every person has something beautiful to offer, and together, we are all building the Kingdom of God in our own unique ways.

I am deeply grateful for your generosity, your selflessness, and for the ways you all bring Christ’s light into the lives of so many, especially the young people in our community. As we continue to serve one another in love, let us remember the words of Christ, who calls us to be humble servants. Let us look for opportunities to serve, whether big or small, knowing that our acts of service not only make a difference in the lives of others but also help build a community grounded in love, compassion, and unity.

May we continue to follow Christ’s example of humble service, allowing His light to shine through our actions. As we work together, may we build a community that reflects His love and grace, bringing peace and hope to all.

Amen.

We would like to extend our heartfelt gratitude to all those who have generously sponsored this event. Your support makes a meaningful difference, and we are especially excited to showcase the beautiful window created by the young people at the upcoming Community Carol Service. Your contribution not only helps bring this event to life, but also empowers the creativity and spirit of our community's youth. Thank you for being a vital part of this wonderful celebration.

      Inkpen Primary Schools Advent experience, Please come down to see the Beautiful window they have created, More to come from St. Mary's Kintbury. These will be added to the website. 

Harvest-time, with all of its exuberant fruitfulness and colour, has now passed.  The clocks have changed, and we are fast approaching the darkest months of the year.  It is a time that some find particularly hard, for all sorts of reasons, and it can impact on energy levels, and emotional well-being.  It’s a time when we need to be particularly mindful to look out for each other.  

The time is approaching when it seems like nothing much is happening.  In the natural world around us, there appears to be no growth, no change, the earth becomes cold and unproductive, everything is dormant, just waiting.   Not so our human lives!  How often are we thinking about the next thing, before we’ve even finished what we’re doing now?  Do you, like me, get so caught up in the ‘doing’ of life that when there is an unplanned quiet moment it takes you by surprise and you think ‘Oh! Now what should I be doing? How could I use this extra bit of time?’

It is very hard to resist the pressures of modern living, where we pride ourselves on busyness, and are congratulated for our productivity, and achievements.  The speed and immediacy of our technology, as helpful as it is for some things, can also place significant expectations upon us.  Of course, there are times when it is necessary and appropriate to attend to the many demands that are put upon us.  But how much more important then, is it that we find ways to take a moment to stop.  To still ourselves.  To find some kind of a space.  The prophet Elijah famously heard God speak, not in earthquake, wind or fire, but in silence (1 Kings 19:12-13).  In the ‘still, small voice’.  What might God have to say to us, if only we could find a moment to be quiet?

I think there is a widespread acknowledgement that it is hard to get the space and stillness we need these days if we are not deliberate and intentional about it. The concept of ‘mindfulness’ is in common usage.  And there is a whole industry built up around the need to retreat, relax, pamper ourselves.  Rest has even become a lucrative commodity!  But I wonder what our Christian traditions have to say about this?   I would suggest that we actually already know a thing or two about how to attend to this need, how to ‘reset’ and be replenished.  We have a rich array of symbols, and simple actions that might help us focus.  It might be a simple as the lighting of a candle and sitting for a while.  We can use silence, we can choose a moment’s solitude.  Perhaps the bodily action of walking, making pilgrimage, or the physical posture of kneeling, or opening up our hands.  Looking at something beautiful, in nature or in art, listening to music, letting poetry, or the psalms, bypass our intellect and sink in to our hearts.  All sorts of ways of setting ourselves aside and adopting a posture of stilling, waiting, receiving.  Ways of ‘wasting time’ with God!  Times when it might be hard to discern that anything is happening at all, but we allow space, and be quiet.  Sometimes we need to take time to do this alone.  Sometimes we can deliberately make space to be together to be quiet, in the presence of God, such as in our recent services for healing, and bereavement.  

I wonder whether by stilling ourselves, we are actually doing something that is in our spiritual, as well as physical, DNA.  Getting in touch with how God created us to be.   During the dark days of the year it looks like nothing is happening, we can’t see anything going on at all.  But if it wasn’t for the decay of autumn, and the dormancy of winter, spring wouldn’t come.  Nature won’t be rushed.  It rests, and it waits.  Perhaps we can learn something from this.

I write to you this week with a heavy heart, aware that many of you, like me, are struggling with the fallout from the recent revelations in the Makin report, which have cast a dark shadow over our Church. The suffering and betrayal endured by the survivors of John Smyth, and the failures revealed within our leadership, are nothing short of horrific.

As you may have heard, the Bishop of Newcastle, Dr. Helen-Ann Hartley, has publicly called for the resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury in response to the findings of the report. She has spoken plainly of the damage done to the Church’s moral authority, and the very real doubts now surrounding the credibility of our safeguarding procedures. As a body that claims to represent Christ on earth, we cannot ignore the grave failure to protect the vulnerable and ensure justice for the abused.

The Archbishop himself has acknowledged his own profound failures, and while I have no doubt that his apology is heartfelt, the question that we must all wrestle with is this: how do we move forward? Dr. Hartley’s call for the Archbishop to resign is not simply about accountability, but about sending a message that we, as the Church of England, are ready to confront our sins and take the necessary steps toward true healing and reform.

We know that the resignation of one individual, however high their office, will not solve the deep, systemic issues that have been laid bare. But it would, as Dr. Hartley suggests, offer a clear indication that a line has been drawn. It would show that we are willing to take the necessary steps to ensure that the failures of the past do not continue into the future.

What does this mean for us, as a local congregation? It means that we must continue to pray, not only for the survivors of abuse, but for our Church as a whole. We must pray for the leadership of the Church of England, that they might have the wisdom, courage, and humility to make the hard decisions needed for true reform. We must pray that God will guide us through this dark time, and that His love and justice will be evident in all that we do.

And we must also act. We must continue to hold our leadership accountable, not in judgment, but in the spirit of truth and love, that we might truly live up to our calling as the Body of Christ. We must commit ourselves to doing all we can to support and protect the vulnerable, and to ensure that our Church is a place where trust is restored and justice prevails.

I know that many of you may be feeling disillusioned, angry, or deeply saddened by what has transpired. I share those feelings with you. But let us remember that our faith is rooted in a God who is both just and merciful, and who calls us to repentance, reconciliation, and renewal.

Together, let us pray for the strength to walk this difficult path, knowing that we do not walk it alone. We walk it with Christ, and we walk it with each other.

In Christ’s peace,

Rev Annette

Vicar of Walbury Beacon Benefice

Last Sunday we held our benefice Bereavement service, and we read the names of those from the villages who have died this year and those who we miss. It was a large congregation making it clear that the community is currently holding a lot of loss and pain. 

Many grapple with the difficult question in the depths of grief: "Why did God allow this to happen?" This question is natural and deeply human; it reflects our desire to understand the incomprehensible pain of loss. While we may seek clear answers, it’s important to acknowledge that some aspects of life’s suffering remain mysterious, and the reasons behind our pain often elude us.

In the Bible, we see characters like Job who faced immense suffering and questioned God openly. His story reminds us that it’s okay to voice our struggles and seek understanding. God does not shy away from our questions; instead, He invites us to bring our doubts and fears to Him. In those moments of confusion, we are reminded that our perspective is limited, and while we may not see the whole picture, we can trust in a God who is good and compassionate.

God does not cause our suffering, but He is present with us in it. He walks alongside us in our pain, offering comfort and strength. The life of Jesus exemplifies this; He wept with those who mourned and carried the weight of our sorrows. In the midst of our questioning, we can find hope in the assurance that God understands our pain and is deeply involved in our healing process.

As we wrestle with these profound questions, it can be helpful to focus on what we know to be true about God: He is loving, faithful, and present. Even in the darkest valleys, His light can break through, offering moments of peace and solace. While we may not grasp the reasons for our suffering, we can cling to the promise that God is working all things for good in ways that we may not yet understand.

In your journey through grief, it might be comforting to reflect on the ways God has been present in your life, perhaps in the support of friends and family, the beauty of memories shared, or the quiet moments of peace that come unexpectedly. These glimpses of grace can serve as reminders of His love amidst the turmoil.

Ultimately, we are invited to trust God with our questions and our pain, knowing that He is with us in our sorrows and that He holds our loved ones in His care. In this trust, we can find a glimmer of hope, even amid our grief. Healing is a process, and though we may not have all the answers, we can take comfort in the presence of a God who cares deeply for each of us.

With much love and prayer

Revd Annette

Four years ago, at the beginning of the Pandemic and just before the first lockdown in Britain in March 2020, Olivia and I went to Arles in Provence, France. In fact, in less than a week we flew to Marseilles, spent three nights in Arles including a day trip to Avignon seeing the mighty palace of the popes there, spent a night with Olivia’s French exchange friend at Aix-les Bains of fifty years stranding, and finally had two days in Lyon exploring the Roman remains for future writing by me on Irenaeus, a 2nd Century Bishop and theologian!  Breathless but wonderful.  

 And now Arles has come to London in the form of an art exhibition in the National Gallery of many of Van Gogh’s best loved works including the Sunflowers. What is clear is that in a life hitherto studded with disappointments, unrequited love, psychotic episodes, a career as a scripture teacher in London and a trainee minister in Belgium, he found two wonderful years (1888, 1889) of almost pure fulfilment in his time in Arles. The exhibition contains, among many others, The Yellow House, The Night Café, the Triptych with the Sunflowers called La Berceuse, The Stevedores on the Rhone and sketches from the nearby hill of Montmajour. They all show a wonderful talent luxuriating in the warmth and variety of flowers and trees, and an enjoyment of simple things well-depicted, like his chair in the Yellow House. So much more could be said of the sheer exuberance of his work, not least the ever-increasing use of colour which Vincent thought was the future. Sadly, those two years in which he painted some two hundred canvases, a quarter of all his oils, did not last. He was again admitted to a mental sanatorium at Saint-Remy, nearby Arles. Later he returned north again to near Paris where a year on, in July 1890, he shot himself. Now his artworks are valued beyond all others, except Leonardo da Vinci.

In one of the rooms are lines from a letter to his much-loved brother Theo. He wrote from Arles that “instead of painting the dull wall of the mean room, I shall paint the infinite”. In one picture which he painted in Arles entitled, “The Sower with setting Sun”, one imagines Vincent recalling his Bible teaching of the Parable of the Sower and his familiarity with the text. His own sun was setting far too early; but what seeds he sowed of pleasure and joy for countless millions in the exuberance of those years in Arles! He was able to use his great talents to their full extent.  Arles and its joy have come to London, if you get a chance, go and see the Exhibition called Vincent Van Gogh Poets and Lovers, and rejoice in his perception and gifts.  And be inspired to use your talents to the full, whatever the difficulties.

Patrick Whitworth                      

Last weekend I went to my Godson’s 3rd birthday party.  It was . . . lively.  In a brief moment of respite, I found myself chatting to the father of my Godson’s 3-year-old best friend.  He said how interesting he was finding it to be seeing the world anew – through 3-year-old eyes encountering everything for the first time.  I remembered my very prosaic and practical cousin when his daughter was around that age, coming back from a stroll in Richmond Park.

“Gwinnie brought me a feather,” he said.  “And we were all busy chatting, so I gave it back to her and said ‘Yes, darling, it’s just a feather from a magpie, see the black and white.’  Then I noticed the way she was gazing at it, and very gently stroking it.  So I too looked more carefully and realised for the first time its incredibly precise workmanship and engineering.  The combination of strength and fragility replicated in every single feather on every wing of every bird.  The perfect accuracy of every separate part making up the whole.  ‘Just a feather indeed!’  I wondered how I could have reached the grand old age of 35 without seeing that before.”

There is just so much in this world for us to notice, to wonder at, to be amazed by.  As William Blake wrote of the Tyger: 
“What immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry?”

It’s a question that is worth asking, over and over again, although we shall not find the complete answer – how could we?  It isn’t possible for the Created to understand the Creator – but I think it’s human nature to keep trying.

‘Seasons of mist and mellow fruitfulness….’

I love the Autumn.  I love the multitude of colours as the trees turn, I love seeing the hedgerows packed with berries and good old English apples on the trees.  For me, Autumn speaks of promise.  Things might appear to be dying off, but it’s in the ripening and falling, that there is the certain promise of the new life that will return in Spring. 

It’s the time that we celebrate and express our thanks to God for the earth’s fruitfulness.  But what about our fruitfulness?  The fruitfulness of our lives?  Galatian 5.22-23 tells us

‘the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things.’

When I read this, it’s very easy for me to feel a little hopeless.  If only!  I might try very hard, but I cannot claim to have achieved all of these wonderful qualities, all of the time.  But there is some good news.  We don’t have to produce our own fruit!  In fact, we can’t.  No matter how hard we try, our very best efforts, we can no more produce our own fruit, than the stalk of a plant left lying uprooted on the ground can grow and flower and fruit and seed.  The writer of Galatians is talking about the fruit of the Spirit.  This is the fruit that can only grow when we put our roots down into God, and open ourselves to the nourishment of his Spirit. 

If you, like me, long to see more of this fruit in your life we can take steps to put ourselves in a place where the conditions are right for growth.  The Spirit of God will nourish us, as we deliberately turn ourselves towards him.  As we seek him with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength.  As we choose that we will worship, we will pray, we will listen to, and meditate on, the life-giving words that God has given us.    And as we look for, and enjoy, the Spirit of God at work in each other. 

A few weeks ago, on holiday in the Lake District, I noticed some tiny ferns growing out of a drystone wall.  I was struck by the tenacity of these delicate little plants, seeking out nutrients wherever they were to be found, hanging on tightly to the stone, when to all intents and purposes there was nothing much to keep them there.  As I looked more closely at them, it seemed to me that they were things of extraordinary beauty and strength, with an irrepressible impulse towards life, a determination to cling on and draw deeply. 

So, at this most fruitful time of the year, perhaps we can learn something from the natural world.  Let’s seek out the nourishment we need, spread our roots wide and deep, hold on tight if it looks like not much is happening, and trust the Spirit of God to produce a harvest of fruitfulness in our lives.

If Jesus had social media, it’s amusing to imagine how His ministry would have unfolded online. Would He have gone viral after the Sermon on the Mount? Would His miracles trend on TikTok, and would the disciples worry about follower counts?

Jesus would have had millions of "followers" online, but He would likely redefine the term. In Luke 9:23, He says, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” Followers wouldn’t be about boosting numbers but about genuine discipleship. A contemporary twist might be Jesus reminding His disciples, “Not everyone who follows Me on Instagram is truly My disciple” (a take on Matthew 7:21).

The Beatitudes could be an interesting Twitter thread: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. #blessed #kingdomcome”—a countercultural message in the age of "blessed" posts flaunting material success. As Augustine said, “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” Jesus’ challenge to worldly values might not get the same viral response but would call people to deeper reflection.

Jesus’ parables would make excellent Instagram Reels. The Parable of the Lost Sheep could show Jesus finding the lost sheep, captioned: “He left the 99 to save the 1. #GoodShepherd.” Perhaps Peter would suggest adding puppies for more likes? Jesus might chuckle and say, “Feed my sheep” (John 21:17).

And then there’d be the inevitable trolls—possibly led by the Pharisees. Jesus’ calm wisdom would outshine them, just as He did when He said, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s” (Mark 12:17), leaving His critics speechless. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil,” but Jesus would always choose grace in His interactions.

Imagine livestreaming the feeding of the five thousand! Philip might stress over the lack of food, while Jesus could tweet: “Just bring Me the loaves and fish. #MultiplicationMiracle.” The crowd would probably take selfies with their loaves and fish, tagging Jesus in their posts.

On a more serious note, how would the events of the Passion unfold online? Viral videos of the Last Supper? The hashtag #TheCross trending? Karl Barth said, “God is God, and because of that, He is free to reveal Himself where and how He chooses.” No social media trend could contain the magnitude of Jesus’ redemptive work.

Wherever and however Jesus’ message appeared it would remain countercultural, calling people not to chase fleeting trends but to seek eternal truth. Whether spoken from a mountain or posted online, His words would still resonate: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). No hashtag needed.

Love and prayers

Revd Annette

If you were not able to get to the Harvest Festival service on Sunday (or even if you were), do try and find time to go into the church in the next few days and enjoy the stunning Harvest decorations - which I think are the best ever!  Jenny

Bible Study: occasionally members of our congregations ask about either reviving the "Faith Group" which ran for 5 or 6 years pre-Covid, or setting up regular Bible Study sessions.  I have been thinking about this, and discussing it with Annette.  Now that we have our lovely new Bibles and Study Bibles in Kintbury, I suggest we make good use of them.  Shall we try a fortnightly "Readings Review" - in which we spend time revisiting the set readings from the previous week, and reviewing in advance those for the week to come?  I have done this in a previous benefice, and we all found it helped us to become much more attentive and thoughtful listeners on a Sunday - both to the readings and to the sermon.  Because it isn't a continuous working through a book from the Bible (which also of course is really rewarding), it is accessible and relevant even when people are not able to commit to every session.  It also means that different people can lead different sessions (really useful if one happens to be preaching that weekend  . . . !)

We could get in a few sessions this side of Christmas, pick up again after New Year, then pause for Lent when there will be a Lent Course, and consider whether we wish to carry on after Easter.
Day / time can be agreed among those who are interested, but I suggest - during the winter at least - an afternoon session of about an hour and a half in St Mary's Room, with the kettle on . . .

If you would be interested, please email me - jennyveasey@hotmail.co.uk - and I'll set up a group chat so that we can find a day and time that suits us all.