As we continue in the joy of Eastertide, the Church sets before us three great
feasts – Ascension, Pentecost, and Trinity Sunday – through which we are invited
not only to believe more deeply, but to live more faithfully the life we have received
in Christ.
The Ascension of the Lord lifts our gaze heavenward, yet not in escape from the
world. In Christ, our human nature is taken into the very life of God. The wounds
of the Cross are not erased, but glorified; suffering is not denied, but redeemed.
For those who endure quietly, who carry burdens unseen, or who persevere in faith
amidst uncertainty, this feast speaks a steady and consoling truth: that our destiny
is not loss, but fulfilment – our life hidden now with Christ in God.
And yet, our Lord does not leave us to make that journey alone. At Pentecost, the
Holy Spirit is poured out upon the Church, the fire of divine love, the breath of God
animating his people. The Church is born not as a human society sustained by
effort, but as a living body, sustained by grace. That same Spirit is given to us still:
in the sacraments, in the quiet prompting of conscience, in the strength to continue
when we feel we have little left to give.
Then, in the mystery of the Most Holy Trinity, we glimpse the source and end of all
things: the perfect communion of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Here is no
domination, no rivalry, no distortion of truth – only co-equal, self-giving love. The
life of God is not power grasped, but love shared; not confusion, but harmony; not
isolation, but communion. And it is into this life that we are baptised and drawn.
Set against this vision, the realities of our world can weigh heavily upon us. We
are daily confronted with accounts of conflict, suffering, and the misuse of power –
in Ukraine, in Iran, and in so many places where truth is obscured, dignity
diminished, and language itself pressed into the service of division or control.
There are times, if I may speak plainly, when I find I cannot watch or listen to it all.
There are days when, for the sake of one’s own spiritual and emotional well-being,
one must turn away – not out of indifference, but out of a need for preservation, for
silence, for prayer.
And perhaps that, too, is a deeply Christian instinct. For we are not called to carry
the whole weight of the world unaided, nor to immerse ourselves endlessly in that
which diminishes hope. Rather, we are called to root ourselves again and again in
the life of God, in Word and Sacrament, in prayer, in the fellowship of the Church
so that we may be renewed and strengthened for the part we are given to play.
That part is not insignificant. Indeed, it is quietly prophetic. In a world where
words are often careless or manipulative, we are called to speak truthfully
and graciously. Where power is misused, we are called to exercise
whatever influence we have with humility and integrity. Where others are
diminished, we are called to honour the dignity of every person. Where
there is noise and confusion, we are called to be people of prayerful
attentiveness. To live in this way is not dramatic, but it is deeply faithful. It
is to bear witness, however simply, to the Kingdom of God already at work
among us.
The feasts of this month do not remove us from the world as it is, but they do
remind us of the world as it is called to be, and of the God who is even now
at work bringing all things to their fulfilment in Christ. May we be given
grace to share in that work: to live with hope, to act with charity, and, in all
things, to reflect the life of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Be assured of my prayers for you all, especially for those who are carrying
burdens at this time. May this month bring you strength, peace, and a
deepening awareness of God’s presence.
Your sincere friend and parish priest,
Fr Nicholas
Here’s a photo of the daffodil painting in front of the Madonna which formed the Prayer interaction on Mothering Sunday. It was created by Rachael Drouet and her Junior Church children. The flowers used to decorate the stripped-down Christmas Tree cross in the porch (pictured in the next article) were made by Junior Church on Palm Sunday. Rachael organised it and both children and adults got involved in creating the flowers. Junior Church children also decorated plant pots and planted pansies/violas – these were placed on the window ledges along with the candles to brighten up the church ready for Easter Day.
At the beginning of Lent, Fr Nicholas invited us to
see our Christmas tree in a new and deeper way –
not simply as a seasonal decoration, but as part of
a single unfolding story of faith. As he wrote, the
tree that once stood adorned in light and joy was
stripped back and reshaped into a cross,
reminding us that Christmas and Good Friday are
not separate moments, but one continuous act of
God’s love.
Throughout Lent, that cross stood in church as a
focus for prayer and reflection – familiar wood,
now carrying a different and more challenging
meaning.
At Easter, however, the story did not end there.
The same cross was transformed once again, this
time through the creativity and care of the children
of the parish, who decorated it with flowers and
colour. Now placed in the porch and draped with
cloth, it has become a sign not only of sacrifice,
but of resurrection and new life.
In this simple yet powerful journey – from
Christmas tree, to Lenten cross, to Easter symbol
of life – a we see the whole arc of the Christian
story held together in one piece of wood. What
was once stripped bare is now made beautiful
again, echoing the promise that life, not death,
has the final word.
Additional photographs relating to this article that capture this transformation can be seen in the May edition of the St Matthew's Mail
This year marks the 20th anniversary of the rebuilding of the grand Walker
Organ in St Matthew’s.
It is well documented that the instrument, considered a masterpiece of
Walker’s work and of international significance due to its largely original
specification and unaltered pipework, was by the early 2000s starting to
become unreliable and difficult to maintain due to age and component
parts simply having worn out. The organ needed a major rebuild, and the
Vicar and PCC at the time saw fit to invest some £360,000 into its complete renovation. The organ underwent major ‘surgery’ in 2005/2006 and
was ultimately restored, rebuilt and rededicated at the Dedication Festival
in September 2006.
To mark this 20 year milestone, we are planning a number of events and
recitals this year to showcase the organ, and to give those who have an
interest in the instrument an education in how the instrument works, how
the pipes make sound, and to show you around the instrument into parts of
the organ that you never see from your seats in the nave. It is a fascinat-
ing instrument and can very easily be taken for granted each time we come
for services where the organ is in use. We expect to be able to turn it on,
for the organist to sit at it, and for music to come out; but its unbelievably
complicated systems mean that it is a pure wonder that such a thing ever
makes the beautiful sounds we hear and appreciate each week.
The celebration of this organ which St Matthew’s and its people should feel
so rightly proud of will initially take on the form of a series of recitals by organists who have a connection to St Matthew’s, which will take place on
certain Sunday evenings after Choral Evensongs. Later in the year, we
are planning a ‘meet the organ’ event and, at St Matthew-tide, a silent
movie will be presented where the organ will be used to accompany a film
on a big screen. Keep an eye out for dates being released soon.
This year the month of April opens in an unusual and rather beautiful way: it begins
in the very heart of Holy Week. The turning of the calendar coincides with the
turning point of the Christian story, as we stand on the threshold of he Paschal
Triduum – the Three Great Days of Christ’s Passover from death to life.
The word Triduum simply means “three days”, but they are three days unlike any
other. From the evening of Maundy Thursday until the dawn of Easter Day, the
Church does something remarkable. Rather than marking separate services, we
enter a single unfolding act of worship that carries us through the last hours of
Christ’s earthly life: the supper in the upper room, the watch in Gethsemane, the
silence of the cross, the stillness of the tomb, and finally the blazing joy of the
Resurrection.
These are not merely commemorations of events long ago. The Church keeps
these days because they draw us into the mystery itself. In worship we are not
spectators of the Passion and Resurrection; we become participants in them. The
Passover of Christ – his passage through suffering and death into new and
indestructible life – becomes the pattern and promise of our own.
That is why these days matter so deeply. The Triduum brings us face to face with
the great questions that sit quietly beneath our everyday lives: What does
love look like when it is tested? What does faith mean when the world seems
dark? What becomes of us in the end?
The Christian answer is given not as an argument but as a story – the story we
keep in these days. On Maundy Thursday we see love kneeling to wash feet and
offering itself in bread and wine. On Good Friday we stand before a love that goes
to the uttermost, even to death. And on Easter morning we discover that death
does not have the final word. The crucified one is alive.
It is tempting, of course, to skip straight to Easter Day. The chocolate eggs arrive
early enough, and spring itself seems eager to rush ahead. But the wisdom of the
Church is that we walk the whole journey. We watch with Christ in the garden. We
keep silence at the cross. Only then do we discover how astonishing the
Resurrection really is.
And at this time of year the world seems almost to speak the same message. April
is full of small resurrections. The trees that looked so lifeless only weeks ago are
suddenly tipped with green. Bulbs that lay hidden and dormant beneath the soil
push their way into colour and fragrance. Light lingers longer in the evening. Life
appears where, not long ago, everything seemed still and sleeping.
Creation itself seems to whisper the Easter promise: that what appears
finished may not be finished at all.
For Christians this promise reaches far beyond the changing seasons. The
Resurrection of Christ speaks not only of springtime but of eternity. It tells
us that our lives are not closed circles ending in the silence of the grave, but
journeys whose true horizon is life with God.
That is why, during Eastertide, the Church continues to pray for those we
love who have died. We do so not in the shadow of despair but in the light
of hope. Because Christ has passed through death and opened the way to
life, we trust that those who belong to him are held in that same
promise. The love that binds us to one another is not undone by death; it is
gathered into God’s own life.
Easter therefore reshapes how we live now. To believe in the Resurrection
is not only to hope for life beyond death. It is to live already as people of the
new creation – people who trust that love is stronger than hatred, mercy
stronger than resentment, and life stronger than death.
Or, to put it more simply: Easter people should look like people who know
that hope is justified.
The fifty days of Eastertide give us time to grow into that truth. If Lent is a
season of searching and repentance, Easter is a season of learning to
breathe again – of rediscovering joy, gratitude, and generosity. The risen
Christ greets his disciples not with reproach but with peace, and he sends
them out into the world as bearers of that peace.
My hope is that many of us will walk through the Triduum together this
year. These liturgies are among the most beautiful and profound the Church
offers. But more than that, they help us rediscover who we are. We are
people who have passed through the waters of baptism, people whose lives
are bound to the death and resurrection of Christ.
We are, in other words, a resurrection people.
So as the days lengthen and the colours of spring begin to brighten our
streets and gardens, may they remind us of the deeper springtime that
Easter proclaims. Christ is risen. Life is stronger than death. Love is
stronger than the grave.
And because of that, the future – both ours and the world’s – is held safely in
God’s hands.
With every blessing for a joyful and hope-filled Eastertide,
Fr Nicholas
Over the coming weeks you will receive a handout outlining the financial position of our parish and the very real need to grow our regular income if we are to remain sustainable for the long term. Alongside this, during the Sundays of Lent, Fr Nicholas will be preaching and teaching about the meaning of Christian stewardship. This is about far more than balancing accounts. It is about the shape of a Christian life. What does generosity look like in our time, our gifts, our attention, our hospitality – and yes, in our giving? Each week these themes will connect with the season of Lent and with the Sunday Gospel readings, helping us to see stewardship as a spiritual response to God’s grace. The future shape of our life together in God’s name depends, in part, on how each of us responds. Please take time to read the material carefully, to pray, and to reflect. A simple question to hold before God might be: “Is it generous?”
We believe in a generous God who pours out his love without measure. A generous life is therefore one of the clearest signs of Christian faith. As generosity grows, so does our likeness to the God we worship. The ministry and mission of St Matthew’s are sustained through the faithful generosity of parishioners – thank you for all that is already given, and for all that is prayerfully considered in the weeks ahead.
Some of St Matthew's services (most Sunday mornings and some special services) are live-streamed or recorded for those who cannot attend church in person. Under GDPR, the church must gain the consent of anyone whose image may be captured, as this constitutes collection of "personal data". This includes clergy, readers/intercessors, musicians and congregation.
Whilst every attempt is made not to capture the faces of members of the congregation, this may occasionally happen if people turn around or move around the church during the service. The exception is communion, when the congregation is not filmed. The side aisles and back of the nave are so far as possible film-free areas not covered by the camera. Anyone whose personal data is collected must give their consent. Consent forms are available in church and online . The full policy can be read on our parish website or on the noticeboards in church.
Please read Our Privacy Policy - Filming & Photography and if you are happy to, give your consent by downloading, printing, signing, and handing in the form to a church representative or the Parish Office on your next visit. The consent form can be found at the bottom of the page.


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