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Cathedral Evensong attended by parish magazine editors
Sunday 3rd February, 2008.
Readings (for Sunday before Lent): 2 Kings 2:1-12/Matthew 17:9-23
We were a small, sometimes struggling congregation at St Anne’s, Dunbar. We frequently felt outgunned by the larger set-ups in North Berwick and Haddington. And we certainly felt a bit on the edge of the Edinburgh Diocese. So how could this crazy new idea of a parish magazine really work? Like every new idea, it had been endlessly discussed at Church Meetings, and – in true Anglican style – opposition voices were given undue prominence. But in the end, we decided to proceed. The result – the ‘St Anne’s Herald’ - certainly wouldn’t get anywhere near tonight’s competition entries. (I’m talking about fifty years ago!) But it brought our little community – and its considerable fringe members – together in a way that we’d not seen before. Folk with only a nominal membership who never darkened the door of our Church suddenly became strenuously active to get hold of a copy – even though it consisted of only a few pages.
This is my way of saying a big thankyou to those in tonight’s congregation who work hard in the business of producing these local miracles. They communicate on paper – rather than by word of mouth – something of what the local church is about. I’m reliably told that across the diocese, whereas 12,500 adults regularly attend our churches Sunday by Sunday, over 25,000 read our parish magazines. This means that twice as many read as come on Sundays! So your magazine may be the only spiritual input a household receives. Whether your parish is a large, thriving community, or a small and struggling (like the one I grew up in), the magazine is never to be overlooked. It can be a wonderful source of information, comment, and – sometimes – of helpful feedback. An editor brave enough to print an angry letter may well solve a problem or two! And an editor imaginative enough to have a regular slot from the past can provide a useful piece of community memory. Somewhere in my files is an Isle of Wight magazine from some time ago with an account of a parish outing in the old Island dialect!
It’s good that we’re here on the Sunday before Lent, when the focus is on Jesus’ Transfiguration on the mountain. That’s what you all should have heard read in your Churches this morning, but I expect it was (rightly) replaced by Candlemas, transferred from yesterday – the Presentation in the Temple. The Transfiguration, however, offers the promise of glory before suffering, a fitting prelude to Lent, Holy Week and Easter. Jesus is transfigured before the final journey to Jerusalem, leading into the cleansing of the temple, his betrayal, arrest and crucifixion. Editors need to hold that total view of Christ’s ministry in the background of their mind when they draw together the many different strands of human experience that lie behind all those articles, smaller pieces, snap-shots, lists of services, and rotas.
But let’s dig a bit deeper into tonight’s two readings for a bit more help. First, in the Old Testament lesson, we have two prophets, Elijah and Elisha, with Elijah ascending into heaven at the end of his earthly life. We hear about them tonight because, if you recall, Elijah appears together with Moses at Jesus’ Transfiguration on the mountain. Prophets are important figures, because they often have to ask awkward questions, or give voice to things other people are ignoring. So resist pressure to become bland and dull. Instead make sure you keep telling people what is going on, and that it’s not ignored or forgotten. I’ve never had to edit a magazine, but I did have to edit the Sunday notices. This was a job I sometimes used to hate, because there were always people wanting to short-circuit the usual channels in order to give prominence to their own pet project. We all know about parish power games!
And that leads me to the other aspect of the Old Testament reading – Elijah passes on the baton to Elisha. Perhaps when you took over as editor, like Elisha you were overawed by your predecessor and longed for a double portion of talent. But no one is indispensable, especially in an organization like the Church, that all too often thrives on the personality-cult. And again, there may be an editor somewhere who holds the congregation to ransom by threatening to resign every time they’re challenged. I’ve made it a matter of policy never to ask someone to withdraw their resignation.
What, then, of the New Testament reading. It starts off straight after the Transfiguration. Jesus is walking down the mountain with his inner cabinet of Peter, James and John. First he tells them not to tell anyone about the vision they’ve just seen – because not everyone could bear it. Next, he heals an epileptic, after the disciples had failed to do it. And then he foretells his betrayal, death and resurrection. An editor has to watch what is printed, because not everyone can cope with everything. It may be too rich, too developed, and it may say things that are beyond their comprehension, or their emotional maturity. What of the healing of the healing of the epileptic? An editor may well have the opportunity to soothe a community going through a bad patch, or a congregation making unnecessarily heavy weather of an innovation of some kind. And as for Jesus’ telling his disciples what is really in store for him, well, that brings me back to what I said earlier about keeping hold of the whole view of the gospel in all its richness, and not get bogged down with in-talk of local personalities and too much churchy detail.
There will of course be times when you wonder why you bother. The PCC may, in its infinite wisdom and farsightedness, have a good moan about costs. Someone might complain about the font-size, but, then, you have to be patient with those who find it difficult to read small print. And there might even be a moment when you just can’t think of the right headline, and your sense of humour runs away with you, and you know you’re going to upset some stuffy member of the congregation who wants things as remembered from five hundred years ago – ‘as remembered’, probably a far cry from how they actually were. This is the cut and thrust of parish life. But, though the editor’s lot is not always a happy or an easy one, it’s fun, it’s invariably valued by many, and it’s a ministry for which to be profoundly thankful.
+ Kenneth Portsmouth
