Welcome to St Mary's Putney

1st March 2013

St Mary's Church St Mary's Church

We are a Church of England church in the ‘liberal Catholic Anglican tradition’, and we welcome people of all Christian traditions and backgrounds. We aim to be a place of spiritual, intellectual and emotional refreshment.

We seek to give people the chance to learn https://www.iqoption.net/demo-account/ and grow in their faith through challenging sermons and a variety of education courses.

We are an inclusive church that will give a warm welcome to everyone. We are a Christian family made up of all sorts and that’s the way we like it. We hope you will get the chance to visit us soon and find out for yourself.

Just a thought

Familiarity breeds contempt, they say. Familiarity with the stories of Christ’s passion can, if not lead to contempt, at least dull our perception of what Jesus’ suffering was really like. At All Saints, on Palm Sunday, people listened to a series of monologues written by Chris Eyden to refresh our perceptions of the events of Good Friday through the words of people who met Jesus that last day of his life. The monologue below imagines how Joseph of Aramathea, who organised Jesus’ burial, might have got involved and how he might have reacted to his encounter with Christ.

I have never been a brave man, but I am a rich man. I rarely go anywhere where my money will not buy my safety. I am an Aramathean. I am Jewish but Jerusalem Jews treat us like dirt, except when they want our money. We trade http://www.iqoption.net/demo-account . We travel with the caravan; we know how the world works. Like my father before me, I sell silks, incense, spices, a bit of gold sometimes. I had heard of Jhezuus. The camel men who spit and curse know everything from Jerusalem to Alexandria. There was talk in their tents of another Messiah making a name for himself. A healer they say. A prophet and teacher. I took little notice. Jerusalem Jews invent messiahs by the sack full. How else can they hope to get rid of the Romans?

I saw Jhezuus alive twice. In Jerusalem at the pool at Siloam. Every kind of sickness was there in hope of healing. He was about my age, ordinary enough, tall, slim, darker skinned than a Jerusalem Jew but not as dark as me.

The next time I was in Jerusalem for Passover with my stockman Simon from Cyrene. Having heard a rumour that he was arrested, we followed a crowd, and I found him. Jhezzus was a broken man They had forced him to carry a cross up Skull Hill to his own execution.

We watched trying not to be noticed; but I was pushed forward by the crowd.

A voice screamed at us in Latin ‘carry the cross black man! Don’t just stand there, carry it’, Simon was dragged toward Jhezuus by a guard. Jhezuus had fallen. I followed; I looked at him with pity and he looked at me. I will never forget his face ‘My man will help you’ I said. ‘Thank you’ he said ‘…. My father’s name was Joseph. My best friend https://www.iqoption.net/demo-account is Simon, Simon Peter’

How did he know our names? Tell me? How did he know our names?

The Cross was Lebanon Cedar. Simon is strong but he struggled under its weight. When we got to the top they nailed him to it. They raised him up. It took three hours for him to die. I thought of running away but I could not.

The decision was not hard to take. It was always my comfort that I be buried in Jerusalem. I had one thing which I could give. I had a tomb.

I thought little of the danger. I left the women with Simon and I went to Pilate… I know him. He buys my silks for his wife. I asked for the body of Jhezuus to be given to me for burial. Pilate took no persuading. I was surprised.

We took Jhezuus down from the cross. Me, Simon, his friend Johanas and (he laughs) a Centurion with a soul. The Sanhedrin would want the body disposed of. Dead men are hard to hide. We had little time. We carried Jhezuus around the city walls to my tomb in the rocks outside. I had a camel man bring linen for his shroud. I had myrrh in my satchel. The women washed him and prepared his body. After prayers, we laid him in the tomb. I paid the camel men to roll the stone over the entrance. Pilate sent a guard to stop the Sanhedrin’s henchmen from removing the body.

Jhezuus’ dream of a better world had ended. ‘King of the Jews’ the sign said. In Latin, Greek and Hebrew. King of them all. Was he a king? A God some say?

We left Judea that night. I had risked my life long enough.

I have heard rumours again from the caravan tents. Childish rumours of desperate people. They say Jhezuus is alive. They see him. Speak with him.

I saw him die. I saw the soldiers kill him with the spear. I put him in a tomb.

A time long ago when I was a child and my father told a story of three men who came to him. They were seers, astronomers from Alexandria. They wanted to buy gold, and frankincense and myrrh. My father asked them where they were heading. We go in search of a King they said. The stars have told us that a God has been born of a woman and he will not die.

The memory dropped into my mind like a coin in a dish of water. Did an immortal Man/God cross my life that day? He on his journey and I on mine?

How did he know our names? Tell me. How did he know our names?


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9.15am Morning Prayer


10.00am Thursday Eucharist
suitable for young children



8.30am Service of Holy Communion

10.30am Parish Eucharist

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