Letter from the Rector
A letter from the Our Assistant Curate
During November, we remember. Whether it be remembering 5th Nov as a part of our cultural history, those who paid the ultimate price in conflicts since 1914 on Armistice Day, or remembering the life of a loved one at the All Souls service - November is a time when we have the opportunity to look back and reflect. At this time of year, the nights draw in, the heating goes on, and we so often look inwards to what is on our hearts. During November, the Church often takes up the opportunity by spending some time in introspection before heading towards the looking forward of Advent. We provide the opportunity to remember a loved one at All Souls, we consider the glorious company of Saints who go before us and we remember those who have fallen in battle, However, toward the end of November the Church answers its introspection, its collective looking back over the weeks, years and centuries, by affirming the ultimate care, compassion and benevolence of God who holds dominion. Malcolm Guite’s Sonnet ‘Christ the King’, reminds the reader of the incarnation within the notion of Christ as King. While November can be a difficult month as we get used to the darker nights with more time to reflect, Guite reminds us that while sometimes we may go from day to day with heavy hearts, the feast of Christ the King doesn’t say, “It will all be okay in the end because God knows what’s going on even if I don’t”, but rather that in our times of both sorrow and joy, God is with us.
What ever is on your heart this November, may God who walks alongside us all, be with you
Malcolm Guite – Christ the King
Our King is calling from the hungry furrows
Whilst we are cruising through the aisles of plenty,
Our hoardings screen us from the man of sorrows,
Our soundtracks drown his murmur: ‘I am thirsty’.
He stands in line to sign in as a stranger
And seek a welcome from the world he made,
We see him only as a threat, a danger,
He asks for clothes, we strip-search him instead.
And if he should fall sick then we take care
That he does not infect our private health,
We lock him in the prisons of our fear
Lest he unlock the prison of our wealth.
But still on Sunday we shall stand and sing
The praises of our hidden Lord and King.