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News, Updates, Thoughts

Olivia and I gave each other a Christmas present of a night at the Opera and last week we saw for the first time La Traviata at The Royal Opera House, a treat indeed!  The main soprano part was sung by a black South African called Pretty Yende for which she received a standing ovation.  It is a huge part of deep emotion.  The story raised profound issues about love and conventions.  Violetta the heroine of the play had been a courtesan and had a current lover, the Baron, but a guest at a party, Alfredo, falls genuinely in love with her and she, in time, with him. The father of Alfredo having a daughter to marry is shocked at the effect of this relationship on his daughter’s future. He requests that Violetta sacrifice her love for his son to save his daughter’s prospects. Violetta painfully agrees, but falls ill and pretends she no longer loves Alfredo.  Her illness, in part from a broken heart, worsens and she faces death. Faced by this everyone is remorseful for their part: Violetta for her past; the Father for requesting she sacrifice her genuine love; Alfredo for his anger at her giving him up. It’s a moral maze and maelstrom of emotion, conducive to the most heart-stretching of Opera! But it rings true to the clash of love and convention, and not unlike a Gospel story where the only way out is forgiveness.

And then I was surprised at the end of the week to hear from a Theatre Director, Katie Mitchell OBE, on Radio 4’s This Cultural Life that all Opera was redolent with misogyny and should be binned, and likewise Hamlet! This Opera did not seem to match her claim.  Furthermore, in an age of ‘cancelling’ and ‘trigger warning’, the Bible is not afraid to recount most, if not all,  of human failure whether misogyny, slavery, abuse , lust , greed, murder, racism, and slander ( ie breaking all the commandments) not in any way to overlook , exonerate  or excuse them but because it faces humans with their lives, warts and all, and then shows the way out which is through redemption, forgiveness and grace – however shocking or scandalous that may be.  For grace is scandalous, offering free gratis forgiveness and acceptance to any repentant suppliant which they do not deserve; but then we are all in that boat! The alternative is to take out anything from a play or opera we don’t like for whatever reason, rather than face and hopefully redeem it.

Patrick Whitworth      

We currently have 10 young people (aged 10–18) from across the benefice taking part in a 10-week Youth Alpha course. They are now at Week 5, and it has been a real joy to see their enthusiasm and faith grow. All of them have said they would like to be Confirmed. 

As a gift from the church, we would love to give each young person a Youth Bible to support them on their faith journey. If you would be willing to donate towards the cost of these Bibles, please speak to Revd Annette or Hallam and Katie Goad. Thank you for supporting our young people and the future of our church.

At theological college I had the somewhat dubious privilege of being taught by an impressive array of accomplished and brilliant tutors.   I say dubious, because I have always found it rather daunting to try to talk to others about my faith, fearing that I would fail to be able to answer questions, or explain myself very well.  What a relief it was therefore, to hear one of these wonderful people suggest a definition of theology as simply ‘trying to find a way to talk about God’.  Just maybe I could manage to do that.  After all, if God really is God, perhaps we can only hope to do the best we can to make sense of things that are beyond our full comprehension.  How can we ever expect to find a perfect language to describe things that are surely beyond human words?

A group of us has recently started to meet to follow an Alpha course, and I would suggest that this is exactly what we have embarked on doing together.  In a welcoming, informal gathering we can bring our questions, our thoughts, our experiences, and share them, wondering together in a spirit of openness and mutual respect.  We are thinking about the biggest (and most difficult) questions that we would like to ask God.  We’re considering who Jesus was, and is, and whether he has anything to say to us today. 

As an Alpha group, we have set aside some specific time to do this, but it is my hope and prayer that something of this spirit of curiosity and openness can be fostered amongst us in our churches and wider community.  I hope that as we meet together in church, or socially, that we can be people who include, not exclude, others.  People who can welcome enquiry without defensiveness, and offer not pat answers, but a safe place to wonder and explore, offering hope and love especially at the most challenging times of life.    

Alpha is just one opportunity.  If you have questions, are feeling a nudge for something more, a desire to go deeper in your life of faith, I hope you have the courage to share this with someone – you may find others who are only too pleased to hear, and join with you in this exploration. 

If God really is with us, as we celebrated at Christmas, we have every reason to expect that He will accompany us on this journey to discover more of Him, and deepen our faith over this coming year.     

Alison

Dear friends,

This Sunday marks Christian Unity Sunday, a moment in the Church’s year that invites us to pause and remember that we belong not just to our own congregations or traditions, but to the one Body of Christ. In a world that so easily fractures and divides, this is a gentle but powerful reminder that our unity is God’s gift before it is our achievement.

It feels especially fitting to hold that theme alongside a baptism at Inkpen. Baptism is where Christian unity begins: before labels, before preferences, before disagreements, we are named and claimed as God’s beloved children. In baptism, we are joined to Christ and to one another — part of a family far bigger than we could ever create for ourselves.

Epiphany, too, continues to unfold its message. This season is about revelation — about discovering who Jesus is and, in turn, who we are called to be. In the gospel this week, we see the beginning of Jesus’ ministry: ordinary people drawn into relationship, transformation beginning quietly, and God’s glory revealed not with noise, but with depth and grace. Epiphany reminds us that God often meets us not in the spectacular, but in faithful presence and shared life.

That sense of shared life has been very present among us recently. Alpha began so warmly, with laughter, honesty, and real openness. It was a joy to see people exploring faith together, and a reminder that unity does not mean uniformity. We grow together not by having identical answers, but by listening well and journeying side by side. I’m also very much looking forward to being with our young people as Youth Alpha continues on Sundays — a hopeful and life-giving sign for our churches.

More widely, there does seem to be a renewed openness to spiritual questions. Many — especially younger generations — are searching again for meaning, truth, and something that holds steady in uncertain times. Not all of that searching leads straight to church, but it is often in places of kindness, service, and welcome that deeper questions begin. The Church has a precious role in helping people “join the dots” between practical love, community, and faith.

Closer to home, I’m encouraged by the enthusiasm around the Parish Nurse initiative and the clear desire to engage with it. This is another expression of unity in action — churches and people working together to offer Christ’s love in grounded, compassionate ways. Thank you to all who are supporting and shaping this work.

Finally, a practical request: we would love to begin a simple Sunday Club in Kintbury during the service, with crafts, stories, and gentle activities. This will only be possible with helpers — people willing to organise, welcome, and create a space where children can explore faith creatively. If you might be able to help, even occasionally, please do get in touch.

As we reflect on unity, baptism, and the unfolding light of Epiphany, may we continue to be a church where differences are held with grace, faith is lived out in love, and all are invited to discover that they belong.

With love,

Annette

Dear Lord,
Thank you that you call us into one body through baptism.
Thank you for the gift of unity that is rooted in your love, not our efforts.
Give us humility to listen, generosity to serve, and grace to walk together.
Bless our young people, our shared ministries, and all the quiet acts of love that reveal your light.
Amen.

“January brings the snow – makes our toes and fingers glow.”

We had a rhyming couplet for every month of the year – but this tended to be the one we repeated optimistically every winter.  And even then, before we knew we were in a period of global warming, growing up in a small village between the New Forest and the Solent, we were so often disappointed, alas.  And chilly as it has been this year, it hasn’t really happened for us here, has it? (ok, ok . . . SO FAR . .).

So if January doesn’t bring us snow, what else does it have to offer, apart from bills and coughs and colds? 

A New Year, of course – with all its opportunities for reflection, regrets, memories – and the chance perhaps to look forward with hope towards the forthcoming months.

And – Epiphany: that rather overlooked festival which gets mixed up with the start of a new school term, return to work, removal of Christmas decorations and other essential secularities.  We tend to feel that we’ve already celebrated the coming of the Wise Men in with Shepherds, Angels, Stars and Donkeys.  When I was growing up, our vicar limited Christmas Carols in church during Advent to the last Sunday before The Day – “We don’t celebrate the event until it has actually happened . . .”.  Our Carol Service was the Sunday AFTER Christmas, and the following week the Sunday School and Youth Group had an Epiphany procession, from the church hall to the church, with any number of Magi dressed in whatever weird and wonderful garments we could assemble that we fondly believed looked oriental.  So January started in a rather special way, Epiphany was definitely celebrated, and we did enjoy more or less Twelve Days of Christmas.

What else then, liturgically, can we look forward to in January?  Confusingly, I always found, this Sunday is the Baptism of Jesus.  As a child, I tried, and failed, every year to work out a logical chronology for an adult Jesus being baptised, by his adult cousin John – when we had been hearing about them both as babies just a few weeks beforehand.  And no – for some reason it never occurred to me to ask anyone.  The answer of course, and it took me years to work it out – is that the connection is theological not chronological.

Epiphany is a revelatory occasion – the infant Messiah revealed to the Gentiles; Jesus’ Baptism displays him as the Son of God; and the whole Christmas Season is brought to an astonishing close at Candlemas, with those extraordinarily prophetic words of Simeon, and the vision of Anna the prophetess.  Yes, I know – the date edges into February but it casts a welcome glow of light to lead us through the still dark weeks of January towards Lent – whose very name with its Anglo-Saxon origins – celebrates the “Length”ening days which herald the ultimate revelation offered by Easter.

I wish you a Happy, light-filled, revelatory New Year!

Jenny

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William Winterbourne – the “Kintbury Martyr”

On Sunday 11 th January it will be 195 years since a young Kintbury agricultural labourer was hanged
at Reading Gaol for taking part in the “Swing Riots”. He is buried in Kintbury churchyard and every year on the anniversary of his death, people from the parish and much further afield – often including members of his family – gather at his grave at around 11:30am to remember, reflect and fall silent at 12:00 noon: the hour of his execution.
Jenny

Dear friends,

As we step into a new year, I find myself looking back with deep gratitude for all that God has done among us over the past twelve months. Our church family has shared moments of great joy and moments of sorrow, all held within the love of Christ and the care we offer one another.

We have rejoiced in the baptisms of children and adults alike—precious signs of new beginnings and God’s grace at work. We’ve celebrated weddings, standing with couples at the start of their life together. And we have also known the sadness of farewells, entrusting much-loved friends and family into God’s eternal keeping. We miss those who have moved away, and we give thanks for the new faces who have made their home in our village and in our congregations.

It has been a year of encouraging growth. Our work with the preschool and our two local schools has expanded, with more opportunities to share stories of faith, to support the staff, and to be a gentle presence for families. Our ministry in the nursing home and retirement village has deepened too; we’ve witnessed faith expressed with remarkable resilience, humour, and tenderness.

The Alpha courses that are starting this month —both for adults and for our young people—provide wonderful spaces for honest conversation and discovery. It’s inspiring to see people of all ages excited to explore questions of faith and forming new friendships. Our ministry team has also grown, with new gifts, fresh ideas, and a shared commitment to serving our communities.

Looking ahead, our pastoral team is developing new initiatives to help us care even better for one another—particularly those who are isolated, struggling, or simply in need of a listening ear. We hope to offer more regular contact, small group support, and simple acts of Christian love that make a real difference.

With our increasing number of worshippers across the services, we are now looking for volunteers to help run simple Sunday Clubs particularly during the main communion services in Kintbury and Inkpen—nothing complicated, just a short craft activity or story with the children so that parents can have a few peaceful moments to pray and worship. If you enjoy spending time with children, even just occasionally, we would love to hear from you.

As we enter this new year, we do so with hope—hope not only for our church, but for our community, our country, and our world. What might that hope look like?

For our village: an ever-stronger sense of neighbourliness, where no one feels forgotten.

For the UK: a renewed gentleness in public life, where compassion shapes our conversations and decisions.

For the world: peace where there is conflict, justice where there is oppression, and relief for those facing hunger, homelessness, or disaster.

Hope often begins in small, faithful steps—kind words, open homes, generous hearts, prayerful living. My prayer is that in 2026 our church will continue to be a place where such hope is nurtured, celebrated, and shared widely.

Thank you for all you have given, all you have prayed, and all you continue to bring to the life of this church. May God bless you richly in the year ahead.

With love in Christ,

Revd. Annette

A very Happy Christmas to you all.

On this joyful day, I want to say a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has helped in the life of our church this year—those who read or pray, welcome at the door, make coffee, arrange flowers, visit others, support our children, care for our buildings, and quietly hold our community together with love and faithfulness. Your kindness shines more brightly than you know.

Christmas tells us that God’s light comes right into the ordinary places of our lives—into joy, certainly, but also into the shadows of grief, worry, or weariness. The light of Christ reaches even there. If this day feels heavy for you or for someone you know, you might pause and light a candle. Let its small, steady flame be a reminder that God’s love still shines, even when life feels dim.

And yet Christmas also brings its little flashes of unexpected cheer: the neighbour who drops a card through the door “just because,” or the child who hands you a slightly wonky homemade decoration with enormous pride. These small kindnesses often say more about God’s love than any sermon ever could.

As Karl Rahner once wrote, “Christmas is the tenderness of God made visible.” My hope is that we will notice that tenderness in the smiles we share, the tables we gather around, and the care we show to one another today.

As we celebrate, may we look out for one another—especially neighbours who might be alone or struggling. The message of Christmas is something we share not only with our words but with our compassion.

My prayer for each of you is that, in the midst of all that this season brings, you will find moments of hope, peace, joy, and love—glimpses of the God who is with us.

With every blessing,
Annette

I wonder, if I were to ask you to try to describe who or what God is like, what you might say?  Perhaps you would think of creation - vast, complex, beautiful. Of a God that made the universe, generates and maintains life, keeps the seasons turning.  A God who is distant, wholly ‘other’, abstract.  Awe-inspiring perhaps, but too big to be comprehensible.

Perhaps like me, you find it difficult sometimes to conceive that such a God could possibly have any interest or concern for human affairs, let alone the details of my day-to-day life.

I find myself asking, along with the psalmist

‘When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
    the moon and the stars that you have established;
 what are humans that you are mindful of them,
    mortals that you care for them?’  (Psalm 8.3-4)

Is it just wishful thinking then, that the creator of the universe might be concerned with the things that concern me?  Is it too good to be true?

But at Christmastime we are asked to make a huge leap in our minds. We are presented with Emmanuel, ‘God with us’, in the form of a tiny, helpless baby.  We’re quite used to the story.  But if we try to hear it again, as if for the first time, does it not sound rather far-fetched, ridiculous even?  How utterly incongruous – that the God of the universe is somehow squeezed into this tiny form. 

But if the creator and sustainer of the universe did somehow want to make himself known in a way we could grasp, if God really did desire to be in touch with us ordinary little people in a personal way, how could it be done?  Perhaps this entrance into the utter ordinariness of an unknown family, who’d been going about their simple lives doing the best they could, was actually the masterstroke in bringing together heaven and earth, the cosmic and the personal, the individual.

It is such an extraordinary idea that we surely have to either dismiss it as nothing but a rather quaint fable, or else consider that it is actually the most incredible, world-changing, and life-changing event. The creator of the universe intervening in a moment in time, in a way that has universal relevance, the birth of a tiny baby.  After all - we have all been one. We have all been that small, that vulnerable, that fragile, yet that precious. All of us, no exceptions. And here is God in the utter simplicity of a newborn. 

So, if you wonder, as I sometimes do, whether a God that creates and holds all things in time and space together can possibly have anything to do with me, my day-to-day, my ordinary little life, let's consider the story again. As unbelievable as it might seem, could there have been a better way for God to get the message through? I can’t think of one! 

Dear All, 

 On Advent Sunday I was preaching in the Anglican Cathedral in Zamalek, Cairo -the Island in the Nile in central Cairo at the end of a week there! (Sorry, it sounds like showing off!!).  I had gone with a friend and we were staying in the Cathedral Hostel to take part in a Conference hosted by the Archbishop of Alexandria, Dr. Mouneer Anis. 

What a different setting it is to Kintbury or the Benefice! In the heart of a city of 20 million, within a three mins walk of the Nile: as it sweeps down majestically to Alexandria from Upper Egypt. The Cathedral sits in a compound and was rebuilt in the 1960s, shaped like a Bedouin Tent with a Pineapple Crown of leaves, made from concrete, poking out of the top. And outside the gates is a man with a machine gun as there have been too may attacks on Churches, especially the Copts (the original Egyptian Church).  And every morning there are queues of Christian Sudanese refugees, escaping the terrible civil war next door: mostly women and small children, waiting patiently for support.   On Sunday by far the largest congregation is the Sudanese Service with hundreds of members; the English Service has a more sedate, but nonetheless attentive, congregation of sixty or so.  

I was there to speak at a conference for Muslims and Christians earlier in the week on Monotheism, and in particular on the Trinity. This led me to Augustine of Hippo’s reflections on the Trinity in his De Trinitate and an account of the Nicene Creed and the Council of Nicaea. Translated into Arabic it was a prelude to a dialogue with about sixty there including Imams, and chaired by the bishop.  In an atmosphere of increasing tension in the UK over race and religion fanned by comments from the US, it seemed like a good model and a healthy dialogue.  And in speaking I knew that one of the main issues with Islam is what we celebrate at Christmas: namely that God in Christ took on human flesh in humility and evident weakness, abandoning the majesty of heaven for the simplicity of the stable to show us and win for us the way back to God.   It was a reminder to me of what lies at the heart of our Christian story. This is what we celebrate at Christmas and it is the greatest journey ever taken! 

Thinking of journeys, next year I am leading a group with McCabe Travel (experienced in arranging pilgrimages) to Christian Roman Provence from May 17-21 if anyone is interested email  pjwhitworth15@gmail.com for details. These visits are always mind and soul enhancing occasions; and, in the meantime, A Very Happy Christmas! 

Patrick Whitworth