George Herbert, Priest and Poet

The collect for today, the commemoration of George Herbert (1593-1633), Priest, Poet (source):

George HerbertKing of glory, king of peace,
who didst call thy servant George Herbert
from the pursuit of worldly honours
to be a priest in the temple of his God and king:
grant us also the grace to offer ourselves
with singleness of heart in humble obedience to thy service;
through Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord,
who liveth and reigneth with thee,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
Amen.

The Epistle: 1 St. Peter 5:1-4
The Gospel: St. Matthew 5:1-10

The hymn, “Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing”, was originally a poem by George Herbert, published in The Temple.

Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing,
My God and King.

The heavens are not too high,
His praise may thither fly:
The earth is not too low,
His praises there may grow.

Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing,
My God and King.

The church with psalms must shout,
No door can keep them out:
But above all, the heart
Must bear the longest part.

Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing,
My God and King.

George Herbert was born to a wealthy family in Montgomery, Wales. Educated at Westminster School and Trinity College, Cambridge, he appeared headed for a prominent public career, but the deaths of King James I and two patrons ended that possibility.

He chose to pursue holy orders in the Church of England and became rector at Bemerton, near Salisbury, in 1629, where he died four years later of tuberculosis. His preaching and service to church and parishioners contributed to his reputation as an exemplary pastor. He did not become known as a poet until shortly after he died, when his poetry collection The Temple was published.

He is buried in Saint Andrew Bemerton Churchyard.

William Dyce, George Herbert at BemertonArtwork: William Dyce, George Herbert at Bemerton, Salisbury, 1860. Oil on canvas, Guildhall Art Gallery, London.

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Sermon for the Feast of St. Matthias

“I am the vine, ye are the branches”

One cannot think about St. Matthias without thinking about Judas and the betrayals of our own hearts. He is the disciple chosen by lot and by prayer to take the place of “the traitor Judas,” as the Collect says, and so to be of the number of the twelve Apostles. Yet this is a real blessing for it opens us out to the grace of God which is greater than our hearts of betrayal. Out of Judas’ betrayal comes Matthias’ faithfulness.

All we know is about his being chosen as the lesson from Acts tells us. About his ministry and personality, we know nothing. That is in keeping with the Scriptures as a whole which does not cater very much to our modern inclinations towards psychological and sociological assessments of human character, not to mention the gossip that goes viral on social media as a result. In contrast, we are given a theological account and one which complements the inward journey of the soul in Lent. The theme of betrayal goes to the heart of human sin; our betrayal of God and ourselves, the betrayal of love, as Augustine’s On Christian Doctrine helps us to understand.

The theology that we confront here is the theology of substitution, the theology of atonement as belonging to the logic of redemption. Matthias takes the place of Judas. Why does he have to be replaced? Judas betrayed Christ and out of remorse killed himself. Why not just carry on sans Judas? Because of a larger consideration that swirls around the number twelve. The twelve apostles look back to the twelve tribes of Israel and ahead to the Apostolic foundation of the Church. We are part of something more and greater than ourselves, namely, the community of redeemed sinners in the “One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church.”

Peter’s address to the disciples and Mary happens in the same Upper Room where at the Last Supper Jesus spoke of his betrayal by one of the disciples. Peter here quotes a verse from Psalm 69 and from Psalm 109, (verses which unfortunately and rather perversely are omitted from our 1962 Prayer Book), that speak directly to the desolation of Judas’ betrayal, on the one hand, and to the idea of another taking up his office, his episcopé, on the other hand. He mandates a feature of apostolicity, namely, choosing one from among those “which have companied with us” during the time of Jesus’s ministry, one who is to be “ordained to be a witness with us of his resurrection.” Apostolic ministry is grounded in Apostolic witness and doctrine.

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Saint Matthias the Apostle

The collect for today, the Feast of Saint Matthias the Apostle, from The Book of Common Prayer (Canadian, 1962):

O ALMIGHTY God, who into the place of the traitor Judas didst choose thy faithful servant Matthias to be of the number of the twelve Apostles: Grant that thy Church, being alway preserved from false Apostles, may be ordered and guided by faithful and true pastors; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Lesson: Acts 1:15-26
The Gospel: St. John 15:1-11

Rabbula Gospels, Election of the Apostle Matthias by the ElevenThe name of this saint is probably an abbreviation of Mattathias, meaning “gift of Yahweh”.

Matthias was chosen to replace Judas Iscariot after Judas had betrayed Jesus and then committed suicide. In the time between Christ’s Ascension and Pentecost, the small band of disciples, numbering about 120, gathered together and Peter spoke of the necessity of selecting a twelfth apostle to replace Judas. Peter enunciated two criteria for the office of apostle: He must have been a follower of Jesus from the Baptism to the Ascension, and he must be a witness to the resurrected Lord. This meant that he had to be able to proclaim Jesus as Lord from first-hand personal experience. Two of the brothers were found to fulfill these qualifications: Matthias and Joseph called Barsabbas also called the Just. Matthias was chosen by lot. Neither of these two men is referred to by name in the four Gospels, although several early church witnesses, including Clement of Alexandria and Eusebius of Caesarea, report that Matthias was one of the seventy-two disciples.

Like the other apostles and disciples, St. Matthias received the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Since he is not mentioned later in the New Testament, nothing else is known for certain about his activities. He is said to have preached in Judaea for some time and then traveled elsewhere. Various contradictory stories about his apostolate have existed since early in church history. The tradition held by the Greek Church is that he went to Cappadocia and the area near the Caspian Sea where he was crucified at Colchis. Some also say he went to Ethiopia before Cappadocia. Another tradition holds that he was stoned to death and then beheaded at Jerusalem.

The Empress St. Helena, mother of Constantine the Great, is said to have brought St Matthias’s relics to Rome c. 324, some of which were moved to the Benedictine Abbey of St Matthias, Trier, Germany, in the 11th century.

Artwork: Election of the Apostle Matthias by the Eleven, Illumination from the 6th-century Rabbula Gospels, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana (Laurentian Library), Florence.

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Lent Prose

Hear us, O Lord, have mercy upon us: for we have sinned against thee.

To thee, Redeemer, on thy throne of glory:
lift we our weeping eyes in holy pleadings:
listen, O Jesu, to our supplications.

Hear us, O Lord, have mercy upon us: for we have sinned against thee.

O thou chief cornerstone, right hand of the Father: way of salvation, gate of life celestial:
cleanse thou our sinful souls from all defilement.

Hear us, O Lord, have mercy upon us: for we have sinned against thee.

God, we implore thee, in thy glory seated:
bow down and hearken to thy weeping children: pity and pardon all our grievous trespasses.

Hear us, O Lord, have mercy upon us: for we have sinned against thee.

Sins oft committed, now we lay before thee:
with true contrition, now no more we veil them:
grant us, Redeemer, loving absolution.

Hear us, O Lord, have mercy upon us: for we have sinned against thee.

Innocent captive, taken unresisting:
falsely accused, and for us sinners sentenced,
save us, we pray thee, Jesu, our Redeemer.

Hear us, O Lord, have mercy upon us: for we have sinned against thee.

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise. Psalm 51.17

Lord, for thy tender mercies’ sake, lay not our sins to our charge; But forgive that is past, and give us grace to amend our sinful lives; To decline from sin, and incline to virtue; That we may walk with a perfect heart before thee, now and evermore. (BCP, Penitential Service, p. 614)

Almighty and everlasting God, who hatest nothing that thou hast made, and dost forgive the sins of all them that are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of thee, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP, p. 138)

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Lindel Tsen and Paul Sasaki, Bishops

The collect for today, the commemoration of Lindel Tsen (1885-1946), Bishop in China, consecrated 1929, and Paul Sasaki (1885-1954), Bishop in Japan, consecrated 1935 (source):

Bishop Paul Shinji SasakiBishop Philip Lindel TsenAlmighty God, we offer thanks for the faith and witness of Paul Sasaki, bishop in the Nippon Sei Ko Kai [Anglican Church in Japan], tortured and imprisoned by his government, and Philip [Lindel] Tsen, leader of the Chinese Anglican Church, arrested for his faith. We pray that all Church leaders oppressed by hostile governments may be delivered by thy mercy, and that by the power of the Holy Spirit we may be faithful to the Gospel of our Savior Jesus Christ; who livest and reignest with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The Epistle: 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8
The Gospel: St. Mark 4:26-32

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Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent

“Forty years long was I grieved with that generation and said. “It is a people that do err in their hearts, for they have not known my ways” (Ps. 95, Venite)

The words of the Venite allude to the forty days of Lent in scriptural terms. Theologically, it raises the question about God grieving but identifies that rather anthropomorphic idea with our hearts and minds. What is the cause of this apparent ‘divine’ grief? It is captured in the previous two verses. “Today, O that ye would hear his voice: ‘Harden not your hearts as in the Provocation, as in the day of Temptation in the wilderness; when your fathers tempted me, proved me, and saw my works’.”

Wilderness, temptation, grieving. These are all interconnected. “Then was Jesus led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” John Hackett’s formidable, exhaustive, and comprehensive 17th c. treatise of 21 sermons on “Christ’s Tentation”[sic] begins with the observation that the purpose of his going into the wilderness was not to fast but to be tempted; the fasting was secondary, just as Moses’ fasting for forty days on Mount Horeb was not an end in itself but for the purpose of receiving the Law.

What do we understand by wilderness? It is an ambiguous concept for ancients and for moderns. The wilderness can be a place of fearfulness and uncertainty, of chaos, as in the ancient Epic of Gilgamesh, where it is not just the fear of the unknown but the fear of the unknowable. For others the wilderness is a place of pure nature, unsullied by human activity, a notion, perhaps, best seen in the 20th century phenomenon of national parks, and now, the idea of wilderness sanctuaries where human intervention is held to a minimum or even denied. There is, too, the idea of the wilderness as a place of sanctuary and escape; wilderness as a kind of paradise away from the wilderness of the urban jungle.

In short, the wilderness as barren and desolate, empty and dangerous; the wilderness as a place of solitude; the wilderness of nature; the wilderness of man; the wilderness within; the wilderness without; the urban wilderness of inner city life; the suburban wilderness of empty boredom; the wilderness as an image of purposelessness, aimlessness, and of violence born out of that sense of meaninglessness; thus, the wilderness as an image of man’s destructiveness of himself and our world. Yet, in the story that begins the journey of Lent, there is another idea, the idea of the wilderness as the place of learning and understanding, the place of testing.

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Month at a Glance, February – March 2026

Tuesday, February 24th, St. Matthias / Eve of Ember Wednesday
7:00pm Holy Communion & Lenten Programme I: ‘Reading Augustine’

Thursday, February 26th, Eve of Ember Friday/Comm. of George Herbert
7:00pm Holy Communion
CXL owing to Fr. Curry assisting at King’s College Chapel

Sunday, March 1st, Lent II
8:00am Holy Communion
10:30am Holy Communion

Tuesday, March 3rd, Lenten Feria
7:00pm Holy Communion & Lenten Programme II: ‘Reading Augustine’

Sunday, March 8th, Lent III
8:00am Holy Communion
10:30am Holy Communion

Tuesday, March 10th
7:00pm Parish Council Meeting

Sunday, March 15th, Lent IV (Refreshment Sunday)
8:00am Holy Communion
10:30am Holy Communion
Followed by a time of fellowship and refreshment

Tuesday, March 17th, St. Patrick
7:00pm Holy Communion & Lenten Programme III: ‘Reading Augustine’

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The First Sunday in Lent

The collect for today, the First Sunday in Lent, from The Book of Common Prayer (Canadian, 1962):

O LORD, who for our sake didst fast forty days and forty nights: Give us grace to use such abstinence, that, our flesh being subdued to the Spirit, we may ever obey thy godly motions in righteousness and true holiness, to thy honour and glory; who livest and reignest with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, world without end. Amen.

The Epistle: 2 Corinthians 6:1-10
The Gospel: St Matthew 4:1-11

Duccio di Buoninsegna, Temptation on the MountArtwork: Duccio di Buoninsegna, Temptation on the Mount, 1308-11. Tempera on wood, Frick Collection, New York City.

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Sermon for Ash Wednesday

“Make me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me”

John Donne’s sonnet serves as a commentary on this verse from Psalm 51. “Batter my heart, three person’d God; for, you/ As yet but knock, breath, shine, and seeke to mend;/ That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend/ Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new.”

The sonnet’s extravagant imagery, unlikely as it might seem, helps us to take Ash Wednesday seriously in the sense of our extreme separation from God, on the one hand, and the desire for restoration and renewal, on the other hand. Both belong to the project of Lent and to the dynamic of love, “love divine, all loves excelling,” as finishing, perfecting, and renewing our human loves and lives. In another poem, The Good Night, part of an epithalamion, a poem celebrating marriage, Donne notes that “fire ever doth aspire,/ And makes all like it self, turns all to fire,/ But ends in ashes,” only to note about the newly-weds that this is that “which these cannot do”. Ashes are not the end of love. Dust and ashes on this day mark the beginning of Lent as the pilgrimage of love renewing and restoring or setting in order our disordered selves.

That love is the divine love which, as Donne suggests, we seek in order to be made new. Nothing else will do. Our returning to the Lord, our God, with all our heart, as the prophet Joel exhorts us, is only possible through God turning us back to himself from whom we have turned away. Donne’s sonnet meditates on the radical meaning of what that turning means for us. It means being made new.

He asks God as Trinity to “batter” him, an image of violence and force. He suggests that something more extreme is necessary for our good beyond the milder, more gentle biblical images of piety about God “knocking” on the door of our hearts, “breathing” his spirit upon us, “shining” down benevolently upon us, and “seeking to mend” us. Donne says this is not enough. “That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new.” The alliteration of the ‘b’ sound in batter, bend, break, blow, burn reinforce these images of force. Overall, the poem makes the necessary but forceful point that God has to break us to make us. Yet the imagery of violence which is maintained throughout the sonnet really reflects the violence of sin and evil in all that opposes God, in the devil and us, that results in the violence that God suffers on the Cross for us.

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