It takes courage and self-sacrifice to keep that sort of promise. Such things don't come out of the blue; they're learned in small ways as we discipline ourselves through childhood and through life to be attentive to others, to promise only what we think we can deliver and then to hold to our word as fully as we can. 

When did you last break a promise? Is Lent the time to ask forgiveness and seek to amend what went amiss?

And what about the promises made for you at your Baptism, made by you at your Confirmation? Read again the Affirmation of Commitment which we use from time to time during the service for the renewal of baptismal vows, and resolve to keep the promises made not only to other people, but also, with God's help, to God:

Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers?
With the help of God, I will.

Will you persevere in resisting evil and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?
With the help of God, I will.

Will you proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ?
With the help of God, I will.

Will you seek and serve Christ in all people, loving your neighbour as yourself?
With the help of God, I will.

Will you acknowledge Christ’s authority over human society, by prayer for the world and its leaders,
by defending the weak, and by seeking peace and justice?
With the help of God, I will.

All too often, we trivialise temptation. We use the word when we accept the small indulgencies and luxuries of life: we're tempted by that cream cake, those new shoes, that holiday in the sun. Of course we could discipline ourselves and do without such things, but in general they're not harmful or sinful  - merely occasional pleasures.

There's a danger in using the word so lightly though. What if we transfer the same attitude to things that really matter? What if we laugh those off too, taking the view that they're no more important than a second helping of dessert?

Such a view may sound alarmist until we consider the evidence. The temptation to put profit above every other consideration affected not only individuals, but the whole culture around them in the banking industry. The financial reverberations continue to affect the lives of families and nations.

The temptation to obtain sexual gratification from children destroyed lives over decades whilst abusers walked free, in the worlds of entertainment, education and - most scandalous of all - the Church.

The temptation to cheat has distorted the world of sport, placing the pursuit of fame and fortune above all other considerations.

The temptation to oppress others is seen in the world of people trafficking, but also in systems of global trade as company profits and company taxation benefit wealthy nations, businesses and customers at the expense of the poor.

What are the temptations which come our way? Which do we find hard to resist? What are the excuses we make to ourselves as we give in? Are we damaging other people, or indeed ourselves, through the way we live and the decisions we take?

And if so, what are we going to do to address it?

For Jesus, tempted in the wilderness, it was the words of Scripture and the knowledge of God which enabled him both to recognise temptation and to resist it. Scripture, properly used, and a life of prayer and worship remain powerful weapons to strengthen us as we wander through the wilderness of this world's temptations.

This morning, I spent almost an hour in the Arrivals hall at Heathrow Airport. My daughter was delayed waiting for the baggage to be unloaded from her flight, and in the meantime, many hundreds of other people walked past.

Many nationalities were represented, and English was not the only language to be heard. Business men and women, holiday-makers, students, families, older people - all were there; some clearly very prosperous, others less well-dressed and with scruffy, well-worn luggage.

What struck me in the midst of such diversity was the family reunions taking place. A very young couple, lingering in each others' arms; a mother with two young children, hurrying to meet the husband and father; a grandmother embracing her daughter; and many, many more. There was laughter, silent joy, excitement, and even the odd tear. I began to feel rather sorry for those - the majority - who had no-one to meet them; those who had to travel on alone to wherever their destinations lay.

Amongst those reuniting, the relationships clearly mattered more than all else - and of course that was my own experience too. Consider for yourself - who would you rather be? The business person focused on brokering a money-making deal, travelling on to an anonymous hotel in a city full of strangers? Or the one for whom cherished others were waiting, the one for whom time would stand still as greetings, hugs and kisses were exchanged?

Our close relationships really, really matter. Almost all of us would put the well-being of those we love above anything else in all the world; that's how important they are.  We need to nurture them and sustain them. So here are three practical things we might like to do during Lent:

The first is simple: to thank God for our loved ones, and to pray for them each day. (Hopefully you do that already. If not, start now!)

The second is to make clear how much you appreciate them. We take so much for granted nowadays and need to guard against taking our loved ones for granted too.

The third is to do whatever lies in our power to be reconciled with any from whom we're divided. Petty family arguments can have repercussions which last for decades, as grudges, resentments and hurts are nursed. Who's going to make the first move to put things onto a better footing?

Oh, and whilst we're attending to our own special relationships...what can we offer to those who are alone in this world?

The Master of Ceremonies knocked again. This time, when asked who was seeking entry, he responded listing all the civilian honours acquired by the Crown Prince.

Again, the response: 'We know him not.'

The Master of Ceremonies knocked again. This time, when asked who was there, he replied 'Otto, ein sterblicher, sundiger Mensch.' 'Otto, a mortal, sinful man.'

'So komme sie herein.' 'Let him come in.' And the doors were opened to receive the procession.

It's a reminder that we find God, not from our positions of prestige and status, wealth and power, education and fortune - things gained through accidents of birth and opportunity, things gained from other people - but only when our souls are bared before God in true humility.

St Paul wrote about his worldly and his spiritual credentials. After writing of the hardships he'd endured for the sake of Christ (2 Corinthians 11.22-28), he wrote, 'If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.' Speaking of revelations, again he ascribed the glory to God, and went on to speak of the 'thorn in his flesh' - recognising that the grace of God is sufficient, that God's power is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12). Outlining his worldly status to the people of Philippi, he went on to say he regarded such things as 'rubbish', in order to gain Christ and be found in him (Philippians 3.4-11).

If these two people - one, a distinguished Royal; the other, a leading Apostle - acknowledge their simple mortality before God, stripped of the prestigious worldly baubles we all hold dear, how much more should we strive to remember who we are before God: creatures of the dust, and yet loved and redeemed by God's grace.

One of the most passionate love affairs recorded in history - rather than created in literature or poetry - was that of Peter Abelard and Heloise. Abelard (1049-1172) was an outstanding philosopher, theologian and logician. Lodging in Paris with Canon Fulbert, he fell in love with Fulbert's niece Heloise, an accomplished classicist and noted beauty who was living under the care of her uncle. Despite Fulbert's attempts to separate the couple, it wasn't long before she was expecting their child.

Fulbert was bitterly angry. Abelard sent Heloise away to a convent to escape the resulting opprobrium, whilst Fulbert, believing that Abelard had abandoned her, had him castrated. Heloise was forced to become a nun against her will; Abelard developed a somewhat irascible life as a monk and teacher. Their affair was brought to an end in a miserable manner. 

Later there was correspondence between them, expressing a great depth of both love and pain, and eventual resignation to the will of God. As Heloise wrote, "You know, beloved, as the whole world knows, how much I have lost in you, how at one wretched stroke of fortune that supreme act of flagrant treachery robbed me of my very self in robbing me of you; and how my sorrow for my loss is nothing compared with what I feel for the manner in which I lost you." After death, their mortal remains were united in the same grave; it became a place of pilgrimage and prayer for lovers and the lovelorn.

It's a heart-rending and somewhat disastrous story from a very different culture to our own. It exemplifies the power of romantic love for good or ill, and the way in which it can reshape the entire lives of those caught up within it. It brings into focus the pain of love when separation occurs. It reminds us that when love is deep and true, it persists through circumstances and over years, even when the lovers try to move on. Above all, it gives us a glimpse of the quality - and the suffering - of authentic love. That's the sort of love which still keeps couples together today, through struggles and hardships as well as joys; the sort of love to aspire to even amidst the froth and commercialism of St Valentine's Day.

As part of my 2013 Lenten discipline, I'm aiming to write a reflection here more-or-less every day - or until inspiration fails. Tomorrow's will be about Ash Wednesday because I'm keeping my powder dry for tonight's service. Here's a thought from yesterday. 

Out walking in the snow on my day off, I took refuge at lunchtime in a warm, comfortable cafe and ordered some hot food. It was good to get out of the cold and sit down.

Eventually my attention was drawn to a scene outside the window. A young family swept the snow off a picnic table and benches, and then proceeded to sit down and enjoy their picnic. It struck me at the time as very English and very stoical, and I even took a photograph from where I was sitting.

The family's action was (in a sense) prophetic. It pointed forward to a time when the same table in the same position will be in the warmth of the sun, surrounded by green grass, leafy trees, birdsong, and other happy picnickers.  Of course it looked incongruous and uncomfortable in the snow, but that's the nature of prophetic action. 

The Christian calling is to live prophetically, however incongruous or uncomfortable it may feel to do so. It's a calling we sharpen up during these weeks of Lent, trying to gain or regain the habits of love, generosity and service - the ways of life of the coming Kingdom of God. Sometimes it might feel like having a picnic out in the snow whilst others are more comfortably situated, and that's why we need self-discipline and grace to persevere. But as we do so, often, imperceptibly, the winter around us will melt away, and we'll discover that what we were prefiguring has actually drawn near.

 PS If the picnic family reads this, visits All Saints' during Cafe hours and introduces themselves, I'll treat them to a pot of tea!

Fr Christopher 

Last week's Commons vote on gay marriage was taken in the face of clear official opposition from the Church of England.

Did such opposition arise out of a sustained and sincere engagement with the LGBT community, including a serious and open consideration of the theological issues involved? The 1998 Lambeth Conference (of Bishops) committed the Church worldwide to a listening process on matters of human sexuality and gender, but the fruits of such engagement at an official level are, as yet, barely visible.

Jesus worked frequently on the margins of what was considered to be respectability, affirming the breadth of humanity and revealing the image of God in the least expected people. We've inherited both an example and a duty, such that those perceived as outsiders - "them" - may become fully one in Christ with the Christian community - "us". Part of that inclusion is to share and address the issues that hinder inclusion, including the condescending attitude that "we" know best. It may be that we don't - at least, not always. Could this Commons vote be an occasion when God is speaking, not through the Church, but through wider society? Is the Kingdom of God coming a little closer as the rising generation seeks authenticity and justice in such matters?

And what do we mean by marriage? The Book of Common Prayer - a normative expression of doctrine for Anglicans - gives three reasons for marriage. The first, procreation, is not required in order for a marriage to be valid; we accept as fully married those who cannot have children, through age or for other reasons including their personal choice. The second and third reasons - the appropriate expression of sexual desire and 'mutual society, help and comfort' - are valuable aspects, good both for individuals and for society. Should they really be denied to gay couples? Should we not rather celebrate the desire for faithful, stable, life-long relationships - and affirm God's blessing upon them?

I do recognise why this is a contentious issue in the Church. Once I would have toed the party line, but my views have changed over the past quarter-century in the light of pastoral experience, study, and the sustained development of a life of prayer. Wider society has moved on too. Most of us know that human nature is complex, that sexuality is an important component of identity, and that the yearning for appropriate intimacy and companionship is itself God-given. And yes, I'm aware that there are sensitivities in relation to those of other more conservative faiths and cultures, here and abroad. But should such sensitivities preclude the full inclusion into both society and the Church of a significant sector of the population?

The Church has demonstrated in this and other matters of sexuality and gender how spectacularly out of touch it is with society (and with what I and others believe to be the guidance of the Spirit). We've all but lost our prophetic edge as we seek at any cost to maintain the status quo. Little wonder that so many write us off as irrelevant. And that's tragic when we have so much to share that really is good news.

Fr Christopher

Roasted Tomato, Red Pepper and Fennel Soup has appeared on the menu today. Served with a fresh home-made roll and butter, it's very tasty. Highly recommended.

The latest ecumenical venture to serve the people of the town is one step closer, with the news that Leamington Spa Street Pastors has achieved charitable status and has been entered onto the Register of Charities. The Charity Number is 1150702. The Trustees are drawn from a number of churches, and include Fr Christopher.

Street Pastors is an inter-denominational Church response to urban problems, engaging with people on the streets to care, listen and dialogue. It was pioneered in London in January 2003 by Rev Les Isaac, Director of the Ascension Trust, and has seen some remarkable results, including drops in crime in areas where teams have been working. There are now some 9000 trained volunteers in around 250 teams around the United Kingdom.

Each city project is set up by Ascension Trust and is run by a local coordinator with support from Ascension Trust and local churches and community groups, in partnership with Police, Council and other statutory agencies.

Applications from volunteers are currently being screened and training will start soon, with a view to starting work after Easter. Initially they will be out in the town centre on Saturday nights. Once established, it would be wonderful if we train a further cohort to cover a second night each week.

The work complements NightLight, which continues to operate from 11pm on Friday nights outside All Saints'. 

What's happening in All Saints' this morning?

The sun's streaming in through the windows, lighting up the beautiful interior and scattering glowing colours liberally onto the stone and woodwork.

Dorothea and Annabel are busy arranging flowers.

David is doing some organ practice, filling the air with evocative and inspiring sound.

Gwenda and Lorraine are cleaning and polishing.

In the Cafe, a dozen or so people are enjoying morning refreshments and the hospitable welcome given by Emily and Martin.

And a number of people are wandering around the church, looking, standing in silence, lighting candles, pausing to pray, exchanging greetings with the locals.

It all feels as it should. And surely, God is here too.