Bishop Richard Harries

Good morning. There is deep sadness in Tehran and other Iranian cities today as more that 2,500 dead are mourned and it appears that the regime is in control of the streets again. It looks as though the brave attempt of the protestors to bring about change has ended in nothing but more cruel repression. It must be easy to lose heart, not just here but in so many places of the world, and to think that things will always go on in much the same way. So it is good to remind ourselves that things can change. I did not think Apartheid would end without civil war but in 1994 a democratic government was elected in South Africa. I did not think the cold war would end in my lifetime but in 1989 the Berlin wall came tumbling down, whilst in 1979 in Iran the Shah was toppled suddenly and surprisingly. But for those suffering it always seems so long. In the last book of the Bible, written when Christians were being killed for their faith, the author pictures them sheltering under the altar, crying out ‘How long O Lord?’ – how long before justice is established. A cry that goes up every day. In response to this cry Jesus told one of his surprising stories. A woman who had a legal case against someone kept pestering a hard hearted judge. The judge had no sympathy for the woman and kept sending her away. Eventually he could stand it no longer and granted what she wanted. Jesus told the story to urge us not to give up. However hopeless things appear we are not to cease to pray and work for a world which is just. We are not simply to resign ourselves to things always being as they are now. I love the words of the American playwright Tennessee Williams. He said: I've met many people that seemed well-adjusted, but …I'm not sure I would want to be well-adjusted to things as they are. I would prefer to be racked by desire for things better than what they are, even for things which are unattainable, than to be satisfied with things as they are. Those words always bring to my mind one of the Beatitudes of Jesus ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst that right might prevail’. Hunger and thirst are strong words but they reflect the longing of those not only in Iran but in so many places of the world where people are suffering - and the longing of those who stand in solidarity with them.

Good morning. On my shelf sits a battered US Navy Bible— my American grandfather carried it as he crossed and re-crossed the icy waters of the north Atlantic in the convoys of World War two. When peace came, he was convinced that only nations standing together could prevent humanity tearing itself apart again. In 1947, a lifelong Republican, he ran for Congress on a bold platform: world government. He lost—but the hope for peace guaranteed by shared responsibility continued. Peace making through collective security, if not world government, found one expression in the first meeting of the United Nations, 80 years ago this week in 1946. It met in the heart of war-ravaged London, at Methodist Central Hall Westminster. As Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevan said at the time, ‘What better place than a house of prayer to search for peace?’ So the church offered its Great Hall to the most powerful dignitaries in the post war world, as it had offered the shelter of its cellars to some of the least powerful during the bombing of the war years. This coming Saturday the Secretary General of the UN Antonio Gutteres will join others including British Royalty and Cardinal Vincent Nichols in that same Great Hall for a service of thanksgiving, to re-commit to the values that drove the UN’s first formation. If it was the reality of war that brought nations to the table to form the UN 80 years ago, they’ve perhaps been kept there by the hard-headed calculation that however imperfect, its work in development, education, healthcare, and military engagement, was less costly than the alternative. When Jesus said ‘Blessed are the peace makers,’ his words reflected the equally hard-headed observation that peace of any kind whether in households or between nations has to be made – it does not happen by accident. To say ‘Christ died for all’ is to say that justice and safety are for all – certainly not for any one nation, and certainly not only for the strong. Because power to act may not align with insight about what will help, all Christian security is by definition collective security. As we gather this week and give thanks for the work of the United Nations, I will be remembering my grandfather and his Navy-issue Bible; I will remember how frightened he was whenever the prospect of war returned during his long life. War comes quickly: peace takes slow and patient work, empathy, truth telling and deep commitment to one another. And the cost of failure, if we are honest, is still likely to be borne by the ones who hide from bombs in church cellars, not the ones who make the decisions in the Great Halls above.

14 JAN 26

13 JAN 26

12 JAN 26

10 JAN 26

09 JAN 26

Good morning. Over New Year, two elite Premier League clubs decided being in the top six wasn’t good enough, and they needed a new manager. One of them, Chelsea, has appointed the man currently in charge of Strasbourg, Liam Rosenior. Rosenior becomes one of only two Black managers among the 20 Premier League clubs—making him one of just 12 Black individuals to hold a managerial position in the Premier League since Ruud Gullit's appointment in 1996. 43 per cent of Premier League players are black. Yet a contrasting 97 per cent of their exec and non-exec leaders are white. Rosenior’s demeanour taking up the role has been gracious. Unusually, he gave a press conference at the club he’s left, thanking them for the opportunity and expressing his affection for the team. He has a history of writing a column for a national newspaper and raising issues of race and justice. Wayne Rooney’s among those who’ve lauded his coaching style. I have a friend who, when he married a white woman, had to wait six years before he was welcomed in her parents’ home. But I’ve never heard him utter a word of reproach or introduce race as a reason for any denial of opportunities elsewhere. By contrast I have another black friend who’s repeatedly been subject to projections about her volatility, unreliability and lack of organisation, whereas I’ve always found her meticulously well prepared and even-tempered. We’ve often spoken about whether making a formal complaint would be wise or counterproductive. Last week the Australian cricketer Usman Khawaja, announcing his retirement, looked back over his 88-test career. He said, ‘I had to work harder than everyone else, score more runs than the rest, and make sure I didn't give them any excuse not to pick me.’ Like my two friends, Liam Rosenior and Usman Khawaja have had to choose when to fight and call out, and when to put their head down and trust their own ability and the goodness of the system they’re in. Jesus did both. He certainly preached humble faithfulness and self-denying sacrifice. But if that’s all he’d said, he’d never have been crucified. He was crucified because he told the political and religious leaders of his time they were wrong about truth, about justice, and about God, and because he proclaimed and modelled a society where everyone belonged with one another and with him. For him, social change was about setting an outstanding example, but also taking the risk of directly and unflinchingly highlighting where that ideal was being blocked or subtly subverted. Two thousand years later, nothing much has changed.

The Bible doesn’t call them kings, nor that there were three of them. But tradition has come to call them kings, with their famous three gifts - gold for wealth, frankincense for divinity, myrrh for death. And there are other kings in the story. Herod is the tyrant king, the might is right king, the king who will do anything to retain power. And Bethlehem, where all the action takes place, is the City of King David, the harking back to the glory days king. And then there is the child in a stable king, the one who will be crowned with thorns, the one to whom the so-called three kings bow down. Epiphany is a reflection on what makes for a good king. It’s an interesting coincidence that the feast of the Epiphany, on the 6th January, is also the date of that attempted insurrection in Washington DC, where thousands stormed the Capital building to try and overturn the results of the 2020 election. And last year the No Kings demonstrations brought millions of people out onto the streets in protest. American independence was gained by throwing off the authority of George III, which is why someone behaving like a king can feel like a threat to American identity. Back in Bethlehem two thousand years ago, a weak and pathetic baby gurgles in an out-house, surrounded by cattle. For Christians, this child is the presence of God Almighty, the king of kings. But he doesn’t look like a king. “Mild he lays his glory by” we sing. Power and wealth, typically defining qualities of kingly rule, seem to have been set aside by this strange monarch. In adult life he will come to speak about a kingdom, but one quite unlike the kingdoms of the earth. Here the first shall be last, the poor will be robed in ermine, here peace will have more effect than violence, where human love is the battle cry and strength is made perfect in weakness. It is a curious programme of political action – except that over the centuries billions have pledged their allegiance to it. And whilst some have argued that kings have some God given right to rule, others have referenced the kingdom Jesus spoke about as one to whom all, even monarchs, should pay homage. “No King but Jesus” was the revolutionary cry of the Parliamentarians as they sought to bring down the regime of Charles 1st. In that stable in Bethlehem, those three kings cast their crowns before the Christ child. This is the template for genuine Christian rule, an acknowledgement that all are subject to that other kingdom, however glamourous and mighty they might think of themselves. And as for that last gift of myrrh for death, it is a reminder that no kingly rule can last forever. In the end, Christians believe that we will all have to give an account of ourselves. And the mighty of this world will be judged accordingly.

06 JAN 26