One way of reading the 'turn the other cheek' mandate, is that it subverts the action of the perpetrator, and shows them for what they really are...  This seems to do just that.

It struck me recently that I must have written well over 500 sermons since I began preaching (it may be nearer a thousand but I haven't the inclination to check!).  A small number of those were general purpose ones, designed to be touted around various churches as part of my 'College Sundays' responsibilities, but most are one-offs, written, delivered and (usually) kept on the computer 'just in case' I want to use them again.  Occasionally I do.  And occasionally I look at past ones to see if I am merely repeating the same thing as last time this congregation landed that topic.  Now and then I will be tapping away and into my head pops a picture of me saying almost the same words to such-and-such a congregation.

Usually, my approach to preparing my sermons is pretty much the same - read the passage(s), note my initial reactions, probably undertake some exegesis, read some commentaries, read the guidance notes in the syllabus we are following, gather my ideas, look for a shape, mix in a bit of prayer (that ought to be taken as read but it seems ministers are obliged to tell everyone they pray, which always feels a bit street corner hypocrite to me, but tyg) and then sit at my computer to start typing.

I'm never quite sure what kind of preacher I am - kind of expository meets tentative I think.  I don't do funny stories or emarrassing anecdotes, I don't do a gazillion Biblical cross references (that was drummed out of me very early on!), I don't usually do political or topical, though what's in the news is always on my thought horizon.  Usually it is pretty straght forward, linear, scientific, porgession of ideas.

Every now and then, I do something different.  Using a loosely Ignatian approach, I have retold stories from the imagined perspective of one of the characters.  Very occasionally, I have employed discussion approaches.  And just once or twice I have eschewed comment, and instead read BIG chunks of Bible with space to let it speak for itself.

So why I am writing this?  Partly because nearly ten years in from leaving 'vicar school' I am tired.  Sometimes I do all the work, all the mulling, all the holy stuff, and still when I sit down at my computer the words refuse to come.  Partly because I wonder if I have, maybe, allowed myself to get into a rut of almost always delivering stuff in broadly the same style.  Partly because I think it does no harm to reflect on my own processes of preparation.

Yesterday evening, I met with two of my folk to prepare some props for Sunday.  We chatted about all sorts of stuff, ate together and we had some fun.  I jokingly proposed a scary moral tale to tell the children (which will not be used).  In passing we mentioned the service and some of the tensions it creates.  That was sermon prep.

This morning, I sat at home, with my laptop, preparing the PowerPoint presentation that will accompany aspects of our service.  I surfed the net finding images, ripped a CD, adjusted layouts, checked timings.  That was sermon prep.

I'm not daft enough to call everything sermon prep.  This morning I have printed documents for this afternoon's Bible study, transferred files from laptop to 'cloud' which need to be printed off at church;   I read the Baptist Times news sweep, checked emails, made coffee and finally wrote a blogpost.  These are clearly not sermon prep, and I'm not going to pretend they are.  But as I did them, somewhere deep inside me, the ideas have mulled away and hopefully, when I sit down to pick up where I left off yesterday, with a half-formed sermon, the ideas will flow, and a sermon will emerge once more.

This week is one of those I both relish and stress over - the privilege of preparing worship for Remembrance Sunday.  The challenge of making meaningful old rituals in a way that honours the past but is not bound by it; that allows us to name hurts and regrets and even anger or bitterness without reveling in them, and with the potential for them to be transformed. 

I dream of the day when a German first language speaker may be permitted to read the scriptures in German in a British church on Remembrance Sunday, when a Japanese national may lead intercessions in their mother tongue - but those days are a long way off even now, almost a century after we began this ritualised remembering.  Don't get me wrong, I 'get' why my dream cannot yet be realised; I 'get' that reconciliation at national level is a world away from the heartache of having a relative who died in armed conflict with those nations.  I 'get' that it is not so easy.  But I have to dream it might one day be possible.  I have to believe that remembering is purposeful, not merely sentimental or nationalistic.

On Sunday I will lead worship, and in my congregation will be a lovely German girl, in Glasgow to study for a term.  What will our remembering say to her about peace, about love, about hope...

On Sunday I will lead worship and in my congregation will be older women and men who lost siblings, parents, grandparents.  What will our remembering say to them about peace, about love, about hope...

On Sunday I will lead worship and in my congregation will be people whose relatives are currnetly serving overseas in the amrmed forces .  What will our remembering say to them about peace, about love, about hope...

On Sunday I will lead worship and in my congregation will be those who have fled violent or oppressive regimes.  What will our remembering say to them about peace, about love, about hope...

On Sunday I will lead worship and in my congregation will be victims of violence, hate and bigotry.  What will our remembering say to them about peace, about love, about hope...

God forbid that I ever find Remembrance Sunday easy to prepare for. 

God forbid that I stop dreaming... because one day it will happen, one day a German a student will read the lesson in German, a Japanese grandfather will lead intercession in Japanese, or an Afghan or Iraqi or whatever nation it may be... The lion and the lamb will lie down together, and the Prince of Peace will rule the Kingdom of Shalom.

[apologies to anyone this post offends, but it's my authenticity...]

The eagle-eyed reader will have spotted a new 'badge' on my blog - one supporting the move for the Anglican church to permit women to be appointed as bishops.  This isn't an 'ordination of women' right or wrong issue, since they have overcome that one a long time ago.  This is about the logical consquences of dicscerning that God does call women to be ordained, in a church that has a three-fold order of ministry.  Although in practice the bishop - priest - deacon thing is probably pretty hierarchical, given their ontological view of ordination (i.e. that in ordination you become this thing called 'priest') it is nonsensical theolgocially to say 'thus far and no further'... at least in my non-scaramental mind!  You either ordain women or you don't, period; the difference is about 'role' not 'headship': get over yourselves!! 

So I am gladly displaying my support for women bishops, and would encourage those in Anglican contexts to consider carefully if you would be willing to actively engage by viisting this site and (please) voting.

Yesterday's "sermon" title was 'Stating the Obvious' as we looked at the very familiar words from Deuteronomy 6 and Mark 12... love the LORD you God with all your heart, mind, soul, strength, and love your neighbour as yourself.  It was, I said a statement of the 'blinking obvious' (it being Sunday after all, and me not being given to swearing anyway).  Today's PAYG reading says much the same, via Deuteronomy 30: 11 - 14