A Message from the Vicar ...

The Revd Philip Martin

Presenting Alderholt's OBEs:

the Order of the Blessed Everyday

Dear Friends,

At New Year it is customary for the Queen to present honours to many worthy recipients. Most are appointed by political leaders. Others are sifted by a committee from nominations made by members of the public. There is, then, an attempt to include the obscure and humble. But it is the well-known and successful who, naturally, predominate.

I would love to nominate dozens of people from among our village. Each of you could suggest others unknown to me. Across the country there are thousands, unknown to you and me but making a big difference in small ways. The world is only changed really by many such small means.

Let us call this new, imaginary honour the other, even more important OBE: the Order of the Blessed Everyday . By it we shall mark and celebrate:

• Musicians who barely scrape a living but who play for love more than money

• Each parent of a child whose physical or mental condition is shocking to others but inconsequential to his mum and dad.

• Churchwardens who quietly and faithfully maintain their places of worship until the world around rediscovers the importance of prayer and of places where it is practised.

• Those who promote wellbeing in their workplace but who never get promoted

• A grandparent stepping in to care for a troubled youngster who might otherwise be in social care.

• The shop assistant who has a smile for all

• Good neighbours

Well, it's a nice dream but I foresee difficulties and these were confirmed when I raised it with David, Nick and Ed. The papers would not have room to print all the names and commendations. Our dear Queen, for all her spirited efforts and with all her royal family lending a hand, could not dispense so many awards. And many of our nominees would not be able to spare the time from their tasks nor train fare to get to the palace.

So, instead, by Royal and Divine command I am instituting a new system for awarding the Order of the Blessed Everyday. The power to make awards is delegated to each of you personally. You simply think who is making a big difference in small ways. Then you award them the OBE. You can do this by saying thank you for what is usually taken for granted, by offering to help a bit more, by writing them a letter, by returning a smile, by telling them they're a star or by any one of a hundred ways. Most of them are not looking for thanks or recognition, so you needn't go embarrassing them. But just being noticed gives each of us – and each of them – an extra spring in the step.

Meanwhile, as we embark on the mystery of a new year, may God give you new strength and renewed hope. May God, who is born into our ordinary world, give you grace to see that every day is blessed, every day is a gift, every day is an opportunity to make a big difference in small ways.

Happy New Year!

Vicar Philip

December Letter

…dreaming of home…

Dear Friends,

Christmas leads us to dream of home.

The worker commuting through the rain longs for a few evenings free with something decent on the telly. The student in a distant hall of residence forgets how irritating parents can be and dreams of the familiar, unchanged room at home. The family living abroad struggles and plans to get back to this tired, cold country where their roots are. The couple living in a rented flat wonder when the price of houses will change and they can get a place of their own. The homeless man in the refuge watches with lonely fascination the adverts' tantalising images of families in their kitchens at home. The soldier in a far outpost waits for letters, awkward and badly spelt but eloquent of love. The young child - not yet perturbed, in a house with no fireplace, by the thought of ‘how?' - eagerly awaits Father Christmas' arrival in his home.

At Christmas we seek our home, some peace, some quiet...

…and yet the one whose birth we remember was born in some rough byre where animals wintered. As an adult he did not possess a home but stayed at friends' places – or slept rough. He was falsely accused, arrested and given a show-trial; he met an early, unjust and unpleasant death.

At Christmas we are right to dream of home but we forget how much Another dreams of bringing us to our true home to which our fireside and kitchen table and favourite chair are but a distant pointer. He longs for us so much that he makes his home with us, no matter how much it costs, even if it cost him his very life.

He starts as he means to go on: not safe, not rich, and not powerful. Instead, he is vulnerable and dependent on others. He comes as a child.

As we gather in our homes this Christmas, let us make room for kindness, for forgiveness, for thinking anew about others whom we dismiss. Let us place a smile of welcome, like a wreath, upon the door of our hearts. Let us make house-room for love.

In so doing we make room for Christ to be born.

Happy Christmas, one and all!

With love,

Vicar Philip

November Letter

From the Vicar present…

…to a Vicar past…

Dear Revd James Sanderson,

Across a century I feel a connection with you.

You came to our village in 1890, exactly 100 years before me.

You weren't married but lived – with your mother and sister – in the old vicarage that is now called The Grange, across the road from the former school that is now Kingswood Nursery. Most days you looked in at the school where village children attended until they were 14 (though, in your time, with numerous days missed due to the harvest, or beating for a shoot or to attend the hunt…) and I have seen your notes written in the old school log book.

We don't have a portrait of you, only a photo of a large parish event, full of families and children, in the vicarage garden, in which you are seated next to your mother. Dressed in a black cassock, you are a tall, heavy man with a kindly face.

Fred Hibberd, Church choir member for over 80 years and the village undertaker for several decades, has left a note from the 1940s that I hold in front of me. In it he recounts all the vicars since the foundation of the church in 1849. Among his remarks he especially says of you: ‘Greatly beloved as a man and a…' The last word may be ‘priest', but I think it in fact reads ‘friend.'

You married quite late in your time here, after your mother had died. Then, on 29th November (‘St Andrew's Eve', as your tomb stone rather piously describes it) in 1911, you died very suddenly. A lovely old parishioner of my early years here, Mrs Billy Rose, told me she remembered it happening, and could recall the sense of shock – and the time off school to enable all to attend the funeral. You were aged 54, just a few months older than I am today.

And so, Revd Sanderson, exactly 100 years after your death, I intend on St Andrew's Eve, 29th November at 7.30pm, to celebrate Holy Communion in the Church building that you and I have shared. Afterwards we will toast your memory and the past, present and future of this village that you served with so much dedication. I, of leaner stature, step humbly in your footmarks.

May the lovely God who unites us both grant me strength to serve Him in this place and grant you peace in his nearer presence.

Yours in Christ,

Philip James Martin

Dear Friends: writing this piece reminds me of life's fragility and unpredictability. This in turn emboldens me to reflect with you on about making one's will.

With love, Vicar Philip

Where there's a Will…

…there's a way - to reduce the worry…

In the old Book of Common Prayer that still forms one of the foundations of the Church of England there is an order of service with suggested prayers to use with the sick. At one point it urges the Minister, first, to encourage anyone who is gravely ill to seek to forgive anyone who has hurt them and to seek forgiveness where they have hurt others. Then it says, And if he have not before disposed of his goods, let him then be admonished to make his Will, and to declare his debts, what he oweth, and what is owing unto him; for the better discharging of his conscience, and the quietness of his Executors. But men should often be put in remembrance to take order for the settling of their temporal estates whilst they are in health.

I tend, when ministering in such sensitive circumstances, to concentrate on prayer and on speaking where appropriate about God, rather than on financial planning. I do believe, however, that everyone ought to make a Will – especially where death is, one trusts, only a distant and not an immediate probability.

Not making a Will means a great deal of extra delay and expense for those who are close. Their inevitable grief and distress is then compounded.

Those with young families usually need only the simplest of Wills. This will ensure that the needs of young dependants, and those who will care for them, are provided for.

Those without such responsibilities, and those whose children or other dependants are now secure, may also wish to consider making some other legacies, whether to named individuals or to good causes. Charities struggle most just when they are needed most: during an economic downturn such as now. Neither the Church of England nor other Churches nor individual parishes receive any funding from the state or other public resources. So your Will can help make a difference in the world after you leave it.

This month a number of solicitors around the country are offering to help you make a Will free of charge. Instead they invite you to make a donation to a list of well-regarded charities. They suggest a minimum of £85 for a single basic Will, £125 for a pair of basic matching Wills, and £40 for an addition (‘codicil') to an existing Will. However, for a young couple this may be more than can easily be afforded. You will be equally welcome to give less!

The scheme is called Will Aid. You can read about it on their website www.willaid.org.uk or call 0300 0300 013 or take a leaflet from St James' Church or give me a call. Locally it is supported by

Dixon and Templeton Solicitors, 43 High Street, Fordingbridge SP6 1AU

Meesons Solicitors, 22 Salisbury Street, Fordingbridge SP6 1AF

October Letter

'Please, Vicar, can you christen our baby?'

Dear Friends,

I think I only once forgot to turn up for a baptism...

I was laid back on the settee one Sunday afternoon, back in the days when they showed live football on ordinary TV. A hesitant knocking at the window by an anxious young dad recalled me to my duties. Something even more 'live' and spectacular and 'premier' than the Premiership beckoned. Baptism is the simplest of sacraments, for which the Church charges nothing, yet it signals a gift precious beyond money. Baptism declares that every person is an image of God, for whom Christ willingly laid down his life so that our true and intended life might be restored.

When I was first ordained I worried that parents might not understand the significance of the step they requested for their child. I thought I should explain, when I visited their homes ahead of a christening, a 'theology of baptism' that I barely understood myself. Soon, though, I learned to be a little more humble and to instead listen to the struggles and joys of those coal-mining families. I began to realise that God was - as always - there ahead of me. The experiences of those young parents - of sacrifice and change and thanksgiving and awe and bewilderment and tension and laughter and love - led me to hear anew the Gospel of Jesus: each person is a child of God; sacrifice and love are closely linked; life is a gift to be received, not a competition to be won; we must die to self if we will truly live.

Children's baptisms began to mean more to me than I had ever expected. I can fully understand and respect the reasons why Christians in the Baptist and Congregational traditions only baptise adults, those who have made a personal commitment to faith, and I have myself been very moved when baptising adult believers. But I value still the tradition of baptising children. I believe in that way we sow a seed of faith that can flourish in ways that God knows better than I do. I believe too it reminds us that whenever we turn towards God we can be sure he has already made the first move. And I believe that it expresses the welcome that Jesus gave to children who were brought to him, even when his disciples tried to prevent them.

I notice too the way in which a baptism service changes people. Sometimes there is awkwardness as people arrive in Church. Perhaps some are embarrassed or even reluctant. The service does little that is spectacular in order to accomplish something mysterious but undeniable: as those same folk leave, there is gratitude, warmth and a renewed sense that each of our lives is wrought about by mystery, by questions, by danger - and most of all by love.

I apologise now, again, all these years later, to that family I almost forgot. This vicar - perhaps all clergy of every church - are 'unworthy ministers of Christ's grace' Nonetheless, I still rejoice that through us, or despite us, Christ still touches the lives of children and their families, and whispers the words, Let the children come to me, do not stop them, for my Kingdom is to be enjoyed by those who receive it like children...

With love, Vicar Philip

September Letter

Dear Friends,

I was on holiday in Norfolk during that week when riots spread like a fever around the cities of England.

Dream-like days exploring villages and lanes, leaning the bikes and entering old churches whose silence seems pregnant with the presence of past, present and future. Ancient saints' portraits emerging from behind the layers of paint with which a later generation defaced them, a reminder that our nation has witnessed conflicts in every age but simple holiness in all its forms abides. Then, back in our tiny rented cottage, the TV pictures of yet another city and another eruption of crazed violence and destruction. Another world…and yet, no: for this, whether we like it or not, is our world, our country and our own people.

We were on holiday and there was time to watch TV. As I flicked through the channels I saw a pattern. There were so many programmes about doing up the house, about antiques, property, cars, foreign travel, winning prizes, and about famous (and rich) people. It was all about money .

TV shows us the world we have made in our own image. The homes of those out-of-control youngsters may too often lack a caring family and a routine of work or of shared meals; they may lack stability, mutual respect or self-discipline. They certainly will not lack a TV. You and I and everyone can see on those large flat screens the values that really govern our thinking and behaviour. I suspect that in this matter most of us who proclaim a Christian faith are, if we are honest, not so different. Therefore the fight back begins within each one of us. How each of us lives, and touches the lives of those around, matters. My own Christian faith is not such as to move mountains but it does challenge, and encourage, me to chip away at the mountain of my own, and the world's, selfishness.

I longed to see, amid all the extended news programmes, reference to all those, however, who are working to make a positive difference. Lewis, our Parish Community Worker, knows several of the communities most affected. He has grown up and lived and worked there. He recently spoke in Church about just one of the ways in which a local Church in one such place is fostering hope and self-belief and responsibility amongst young people.

Perhaps those ancient Norfolk churches, standing silent amid their villages, are not so irrelevant. They remain beacons of hope to all of us: keep on , they seem to say, keep on forgiving and seeking forgiveness; keep on hoping, believing, loving…Keep on keeping on, to make this world – despite its appearance at times – a place where (as Jesus said) the ‘kingdom of heaven is among you.'

So, yes, rioters must be punished and their imitators discouraged. Victims and all who live in fear deserve that protection. But arresting people and locking them up will not create a better country. Each of us, rather, needs to be arrested by the grandeur, and glory, of being human. Each of us needs to step out of the prison of fear and selfishness. Each of us needs to explore the bigger and more beautiful world that is founded not on money, but on love. The answer to our nation's problems requires political and cultural and social change – but always begins with change in each one of us.

Always, with love, Vicar Philip

July Letter

Dear Friends,

Weddings are fun.

I've helped several couples lately to exchange their vows. Amid all the finery and all the ceremony, the reality hits home. Emotions run high. We meet for the practice, usually the evening before, and sometimes they can hardly get through it for laughing. Then, next day, the same couple may struggle to say the words because they cannot hold back the tears.

If one or other has any connection to the village it is usually possible to arrange to get married at St James'. If you are in any doubt you are welcome to call me and have a chat. Getting married can, but does not have to cost an arm and a leg. A small part of the cost is Church fees, currently about £400 to include the music and everything. These don't go to me. No fees ever do. They go, about half and half, to Church funds here and to the diocese which, at the end of the day, pays the wages for the clergy – so it's all (in my unbiased view) in a good cause. The Church fees for most couples are only a small part of the day's expenses but for anyone on a low budget that may not be the case. However (but don't, of course, tell anyone…) I have a special fund to help and no one need put off arranging a marriage because they can't afford the Church fees. You can – and I'll help you!

You can click here for more information about arranging a wedding at our Church.

Why bother though? Is not marriage old fashioned and out of date? Doesn't everyone just live together these days?

Of course, lots of people manage quite happily without getting married. There's no shame in that. But the Christian view is that marriage is a gift from God that helps make love a reality and not just a feeling. Marriage gives couples the confidence and space in which to grow, and make mistakes, and make them better. Marriage gives the best chance for couples to stay together and it gives the best basis for children to grow up knowing they're secure and safe and loved. Loads of people do those things without being married and loads of married people make a hash of it. All the unbiased research says that marriage is your best bet if you want to stay together or raise children successfully. The Bible said so first!

Marriage isn't for everyone and I, personally, think that other kinds of committed friendship (and civil partnerships) are a good thing. But for my money, marriage is for most people one of the best things that can happen to them – and getting married in Church is the best way to go about it. Or am I just rather biased…?

As always, you're welcome to get in touch to ask me more.

With love,

Vicar Philip

June Letter

Dear Friends,

Lewis, the Parish Community Worker, and I drove up to Doncaster to take part in a conference on how the Church in rural areas can think anew about how it does its primary task of helping people to be disciples of Jesus. The long drive was punctuated by much conversation and a kind of musical favourites game. I discovered, as a result, Athlete and the strange, beautiful, Icelandic music of Sigur Ross. Lewis, in turn, gained an acquaintance with the American singer Sufjan Stevens along with Spanish band, Amaral.

Conferences are strange things. There were about 45 people, from Devon to the Scottish Islands . Neither of us knew a soul. But we soon got talking and by the finish it felt one was leaving old chums. I felt in addition to my small overnight bag I was taking away with me a very heavy shopping bag of good (or not so good) ideas. Worship that is for, and led by, teenagers… lots of small cell groups dotted around country parishes helping to welcome and nurture new members… a small community that deliberately doesn't go to Church things but concentrates instead on prayer, Bible study and supporting village events… these and lots of other good and exciting ideas were shared and discussed.

On the way back, however, we stopped for coffee at a services. I put the shopping bag of good ideas down by the table, and clean forgot to pick it up. Probably still there – or perhaps it's been made safe by the police.

So, back in motley, delightful Alderholt, I have decided that the most important things are all fairly simple.

Every Church has to be both : traditional, keeping on doing all the ordinary and extraordinary stuff like prayer and Holy Communion and funerals and fetes and everything else – and also willing to push the boat out now and again and do something risky, about which we have Lewis to help us and our village to give it a go.

Most of all, however, every Church just has to go on learning how much we are loved by God, and then try to reflect that love a little better (or a little less badly) in our own lives. We have the Bible, and especially Jesus, to help show us the way and what to do when it all goes wrong (go back to the cross, say sorry, smile and start again…). And we also have other people around us to encourage us and put us straight at times, which is why we need communities like Alderholt and why we need a Church family like St James', or the Chapel, or the Catholic or Methodist or all the other Churches that (with all their faults) support us as people with souls.

Lewis is leading a series of discussions about the issues we explored at the conference, on Thursday evenings at St James' School. You're welcome along, whatever your musical tastes. But leave your shopping bag at home. On any spiritual journey, it's best to travel light.

Love from Vicar Philip

May Letter

Dear Friends,

Returning home from a visit to friends my route led me along old, familiar lanes, past remembered landmarks, to the Wiltshire village where my mother was born and where my parents were married and where now their ashes are buried.

I felt that all kinds of layers of memory were pressing against me like a concertina. Memories of family visits - rare enough from our home in the far north east of England – during my childhood; later times when I cycled there as a teenager; remembered stories told me by my mother and father: all crowded around me. I walked down the street (now quiet as most villages are but which then, pre-war, was a busy, working community), past where my great aunt ran the village shop, past the house that was once the Three Horseshoes - my grandfather's local – and past the house where my mother was born.

I don't know if ghosts really exist, but I think I know how they can seem to press upon us, for at every turn I felt that past events of my own and of my parents lives were only just out of sight, that if I turned around quickly I would really see myself again, digging Aunty Kitty's garden in 1976, or aged 8, on the railway embankment with a box camera to take grainy, pin-prick photos of trains. Turn again and there would be my mother learning to swim in the local brook, or my uncle setting his lines for eels – or my parents posing awkwardly by the Church porch at their wedding in 1946.

We live in time, but I think we often forget that calendar time and lived time are different, that ‘although life is lived forwards it can only be understood backwards…'

For this reason, at least, old stories continue to hold new meanings. The Bible is still, in this sense, being composed. Each time that it is read from the heart and heard with inward ears, it becomes something new, something transformative. I tell those who read it in Church that their task is to allow the scriptures to be heard as if for the first time. Moses fled far from taking any kind of responsibility for his fellows – until one day he was startled into awe by a flaming bush. As we read such stories we too are encouraged to see around us ordinary things charged with extraordinary moment, to see God's presence in surprising places. When Jesus said, as he broke bread and shared a cup of wine with his companions, ‘Do this in remembrance of me' he did not intend that we simply recall a distant historical and disputed event. He meant that we should be open to his pressing and real presence here and now.

For each of us there are moments when we realise, sometimes with joy, sometimes with tears, that, as the poet R S Thomas says,

…Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

Perhaps those moments when memories crowd in upon us powerfully and emotionally are haunted not by ghosts so much as by grace and by God's promptings.

With love, Vicar Philip