The North of England at the end of September inevitably raises one question – what will the weather be like?
On this particular day in 2008 the answer was “fine, and unseasonably mild”, paving the way for a pleasant family occasion.

Of course for a wedding there are certain essential elements, such as the groom.
Clearly Jon seems content with his lot before the big event starts si his attendants so they can remain relaxed rather than alert for any sign of an attempt to escape.

The bride is also important.

Cath is pictured here after landing her man, obviously pleased with the result of her efforts.

Naturally a girl cannot be expected to take this step unsupported so she brought along a bevy of bridesmaids

as well as some others of her female friends.
Next comes the venue.  Beamish Hall Hotel was the place selected and the Monboucher Room

was certainly a splendid setting for the ceremony itself.
No pictures were allowed during the ceremony but then there was the opportunity to picture them leaving the room
to face the world as husband and wife.

The ladies will know that finding something to wear for that Special Event is a major problem.  Joan’s outfit of a long skirt and jacket made from shot silk, topped by a navy hat with navy shoes and handbag, fitted the occasion beautifully. 

Roger took the easy option of the brown suit as worn by the groom, best man and Cath’s father.

When families are spread around the country weddings provide a time when they can get together and have a family picture taken.  With melded families this can be quite a group.
The quartet at the back are (from the left), Richard and Jill (Jon’s mother and her husband) next to Maureen and Tommy (Cath’s mother and her partner).
In front of them are Joan and Roger, then the happy couple and finally Cath’s father and his wife.

In St Martin’s we have two images of St Martin, our patron. One is a statue to one side of the chancel arch while the other is in a stained glass window in the sanctuary. The story of St Martin is familiar, the soldier who sliced his cloak in two to give half to a beggar at the city gate and, that night, saw a vision of Christ wrapped in that cloak. Having been converted by this vision he went on to become a monk and then Bishop of Tours in France. While the statue shows the soldier the window shows the bishop.

Both are familiar images to me, but then I came across this image which certainly made me stop and think. It included something not seen as often, and certainly not as dramatically – the beggar himself. He has his arm upstretched, holding his begging bowl in silent supplication. Martin is beside him. sword ready drawn. The beggar, looking scarcely bigger than a child, has heard the approach. He may have heard the sword being drawn. What was he thinking? What was going to happen? Would the representative of the occupying army rid the city of this unproductive being? To date he had not experienced mercy, merely the pity expressed in a small offering in his bowl or (more commonly) contempt or being ignored.

There was to be no sharp pain leading to oblivion – not even a warm trickle of blood before losing consciousness and passing into that sleep that knows no end. Instead there was the unfamiliar feel of a thick woollen cloak, something to protect him against the chill nights. One he would expect to be an oppressor had shown mercy. There is cause for hope. There is some goodness in the world. He had seen a glimmer of light in the darkness of his life.

Here is another image to give us pause for thought. A soldier in the desert, probably reading a letter from home. There is no indication of when or where it was taken but there are some clues. The size of the paper and the uniform suggest perhaps 50 or 60 years ago. The landscape could be somewhere in what we call the Middle East. Was it one of the British troops occupying Palestine under the old League of Nations Mandate? Little contact with home, trying to maintain control in an area where the enemy were not clearly identifiable. Communications may have improved with the Internet but we still have troops in a similar situation in Afghanistan and Iraq, trying to provide conditions where ordinary people can get on with their ordinary lives – something many of us take for granted.

Can peace be brought at the point of a sword, the muzzle of a gun or the warhead of a rocket? Is there no other way that will allow people to go about their daily business relatively free of fear for their lives? Why has the world become so violent with guns in schools wielded by those who apparently want to die in a blaze of fire and the shock it brings to others? Can there be any real hope in a bitter and divided world?

89 years ago the guns fell silent on the Feast of St Martin. The “war to end all wars” was over at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. Now all that was required was to secure the peace, something mankind seems ill-equipped to achieve. As we remember those who died in that war, and in subsequent conflicts, what are we to think? There are still those who rally to the flag, placing themselves in harm’s way in obedience to the call of others. The cause is not always as clearly threatening to their homeland as once it was. The enemy is not as identifiable, or even visible. The front-line can no longer be marked on a map as once it could. In such a situation how can the old methods work?

Perhaps the real answer lies in that image of St Martin – the one previously seen as oppressor being recognised as the merciful one, the bringer of comfort and hope. A bit more humility and willingness to recognise the dignity of others. Less strident rhetoric and a willingness to talk with others to find a way forward would be helpful. Whatever the cause, or the justification for it, violence destroys that which it seeks to build – conditions where people can live in peace. Weapons are too powerful and the world too small for force of arms to bring true security for all. The only basis for that is justice, recognising the claims of all and seeking a way for all to live in harmony rather than fear, for all to have fair access to food and water, medicine and the means to simply get on with life.

Well, at last I have done it – set up a website. It’s for the church I currently serve – St Martin’s, Bedford. There are those who think we are too small and weak to continue and it would be better if we closed. I think we have something special to offer. Bedford is famous as where John Bunyan was incarcerated for his faith, and that strand of Christianity is still very strong round here. They represent an important strand within Christianity, but not the full breadth of the Christian tradition. Anglicanism, of which the Church of England is part, is meant to be a broad Church, including a variety of “flavours”. The flavour we offer needs to be offered with confidence, respecting others but able to be tasted alongside them.

Setting up a site, as with any new venture, means taking a step into the unknown. It means getting to grips with the unfamiliar – in this case html code. Doing it myself rather than paying somebody else, or even adapting what they have done, gives a simpler site – but also one that is all ours and can grow and evolve over time. That seems to me to be rather like the Christian faith. I could not take that first step until there was someone to be with me as I started writing code, just as many people need someone else to “hold their hand” when they come through the church door for the first time. It means being willing to learn from those who are more experienced, and to continue to learn and grow – also very important for a Christian.

Having made that first step there is no going back – the only way is forward to keep both faith and site fresh and relevant. None of us knows what the future will hold, but we have to go into that future and engage with it if we are to be alive.