What To Do When We Feel Powerless

A close-up view of a green circuit board with intricate white pathways and numerous small holes, used in electronic devices.

This article appeared in the July 2025 edition of village magazines in Potterne, Worton and Marston, Seend and Bulkington, and Poulshot

I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling powerless in the face of a world where power and the will to abuse it seem to be spiralling out of control. I feel powerless in the face of the grim events in Ukraine and the Middle East, where human ingenuity is put to building ever more ingenious ways for people to kill other people.

A close-up view of a green circuit board with intricate white pathways and numerous small holes, used in electronic devices.
Image credit – Pixabay.

I often worry that the fruits of our intellect are outstripping our wisdom to use them well. Why is it that every couple of months, one of the pioneers of Artificial Intelligence research pops up in the news to tell us it could wipe out the human race? Most recently, it was Professor Yoshua Bengio from Canada, whose research is cited more often than any other computer scientist in the world, who left Faisal Islam visibly shocked when he told him bluntly on Newsnight that “the worst case scenario” from AI “is human extinction”.

I feel powerless in the face of not only of Artificial Intelligence galloping ahead but also Genetic Modification. I worry about why we feel driven to develop these very powerful technologies quickly, even when we know things as seemingly innocuous as social media and video streaming are driving some people crazy, partly thanks to smartphones that follow us everywhere, constantly buzzing and demanding attention.

Despite these problems, technology is often presented to us uncritically as good of itself. We live at a time when people seek truth in spreadsheets rather than sonnets. Yet human beings are more than rational creatures. We are made not for power, which often brings out the worst in us, but for beauty, truth, goodness, and love.

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Power and Glory (Trinity Sunday, 15th June 2025)

A renaissance-style triptych; the central panel represents the Holy Trinity with the Father holding both hands of Christ being crucified, while the Holy Spirit flies out, i.e. proceeds, from them. The side panels show Judas betraying Christ, and John the Baptist in his loincloth of camel hair.

Preached at Holy Cross, Seend

Readings – Romans 5. 1-5; John 16. 12-15

“I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now.”

Why is it that every couple of months, one of the pioneers of Artificial Intelligence research pops up in the news, to tell us it could wipe out the human race?

Abstract painting featuring a surreal composition with a bird-like figure and a humanoid shape. The bird has a dark, feathered body with a red eye and outstretched wings, perched on a pedestal. The humanoid figure, with an orange and blue head, stands beside it. The background includes a cloudy sky and an orange base with abstract shapes.
Gethsemane by Mark Rothko (1944). In a private collection.

On Newsnight last week it was Yoshua Bengio, whose research is cited more often than any other computer scientist in the world. Sometimes called ‘one of the three godfathers of AI’, Professor Bengio told Faisal Islam bluntly that “the worst case scenario is human extinction”.  

It turns out that Bengio is based at the University of Montreal. Coincidentally, I had one of the most interestingconversations of my life on a bus to Montreal airport two years ago this month. I started talking to an American in his fifties, in town to attend an industry conference for people working in quantum computing, and a woman of about twenty who was studying computer science at one of the local universities. When he outlined that the first thing functioning quantum computing would do would be to instantly render all existing cybersecurity obsolete, the young woman was wide-eyed – and so was I. He smiled and shrugged and said, “It’s just like when the Iron Age arrived. Up until then, anyone who had bronze weapons and armour ruled the roost. Then all of a sudden they were obsolete and people needed steel. It’s just what human beings do; we advance.”

We advance—to restoring sight to the blind and killing one another with drones; to conquering cancer and poisoning the planet. In recent decades, technology that changes what it means to be human has started becoming especially problematic, whether creating machines smarter than we are, or viruses more dangerous than nature would produce, or simply driving ourselves crazy with smartphones that follow us everywhere, constantly buzzing and demanding attention.

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Can You Walk on Water?: Sermon Preached on 13th August 2023 (10th Sunday After Trinity)

Preached at St John’s Devizes

Readings – Romans 10. 5–15; Matthew 14. 22–33

A painting of Jesus rescuing Peter after he fails to walk on water, a scene from the section of Matthew 14 the sermon is preached on. A dark ship is in the background.
Jesus and Peter on the Water by Gustave Brion, 1863. Now hangs in the Museum of Art, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah.

Did you know that the next Rugby World Cup kicks off in less than four weeks’ time? When I was in my early teens, I briefly entertained thoughts of playing in a Rugby World Cup someday. I would be open-side flanker for Ireland, and in the final, I would burrow through the opposition pack using my low centre of gravity, and score the winning try, under the posts, as the dying seconds ticked away against England (of course against England).

If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything goes the phrase. Well, up to a point, Lord Copper. If God wanted me to play in the pack in international rugby, he may have made me bigger than five-foot-five. And given me better hand-eye co-ordination. God, presumably had plans for me that were different than having me put England to the sword in a Rugby World Cup final, although hopefully He has those plans for someone else in a green jersey.

We all have different gifts – and Peter’s gifts didn’t include walking on water, any more than my gifts included being able to play international rugby. I gave you that intro because the story of Peter trying, and failing to walk on water, is one of the most annoyingly misread passages of Scripture.

So let’s work our way through the story to look for things that are often missed.

The first thing to ask is when this took place—that is immediately after the feeding of the five thousand. So, before this morning’s reading starts, Jesus had sailed off on his own to a deserted place, but the crowds followed Him, like fans chasing a superstar. Although Jesus clearly needed some space, He spent  all day healing members of this crowd, then feeding them miraculously. This is the last sentence in Matthew’s Gospel before this morning’s reading starts—“those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.”

Today’s Gospel begins, “Immediately, he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while immediately he dismissed the crowds.” Then Jesus goes up the mountain and spends all night there, then early in the morning, presumably refreshed, He walks out into the lake to meet the disciples – walking on the water – as their boat has drifted away from the shore overnight. When the disciples see Jesus, given that they, not unreasonably, don’t believe people can walk on water, they think He’s a ghost. And Peter says, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”

So, Peter puts Jesus to the test. Peter demands that Jesus gives him the power to do what humans aren’t designed to do, all because he doesn’t really trust Jesus. And that is what this is what this story is all about.

I often hear it presented as if Peter’s problem was that he didn’t have enough faith, and if he did, he would have been water-skiing on his bare feet. Sometimes, the preacher then uses it in quite a manipulative way to harangue the congregation for not having enough faith themselves, saying that if they did, they would work miracles too. But if humans were meant to walk on water, God would have given us flippers.

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A Queen and A Poor Sinner: Sermon Preached in St Peter’s, Poulshot, Sunday 11th September 2022 (The Period of Mourning for the Death of Queen Elizabeth II)

“every one which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life”

Readings – 2 Corinthians 4:16–5:4; John 6:35–40

As I prepared to preach a sermon as we mourn a long-lived monarch of deep Christian faith, the story of another royal death 106 years ago pushed its way into my mind. It is about the funeral of Emperor Franz Joseph von Habsburg, who was as deeply faithful a Christian as Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II; he also sat on his throne for almost as long as she did on hers.

Franz-Joseph reigned for 68 years after assuming the throne as a result of the great Europe-wide popular uprisings of 1848, and died in the middle of the First World War. On one level his life story seems impossibly remote – even his surname invokes the medieval world; yet it was recent enough to encompass democratic elections, trade unions, worldwide telecommunications, and the sort of horrific artillery barrages we have seen recapitulated on the flats fields of Ukraine this year. Indeed, it was recent enough that it is possible to watch a few minutes of film footage from his funeral procession through the streets of Vienna on YouTube.

The procession was appropriately full of pomp and circumstance. Beautifully attired dignitaries and a detachment of elegant hussars on white steeds escorted a casket draped in the black and gold of the Habsburg family which had ruled vast territories for six hundred years.

Emperor Franz Joseph’s funeral procession through Vienna in 1916

When the procession arrived at the Imperial Crypt, a great iron door barred the way to the family mausoleum. On the other side stood the Cardinal Archbishop of Vienna waiting.

The officer leading the casket stood at the door, knocked, and cried “Open!”

“Who goes there?” responded the Cardinal from behind the iron doors.

The officer replied: “We bear the remains of his Imperial and Apostolic Majesty, Franz Joseph the First, by the grace of God Emperor of Austria, King of Hungary, Defender of the faith…” continuing with all the Emperor’s thirty-seven titles.

“We know him not!”, the Cardinal replied abruptly.

The officer once more knocked the vast iron door, and again the Cardinal replied – “Who goes there?”

The officer this time used a shorter title for the deceased Emperor.

The Cardinal replied again, “We know him not!”

The officer then knocked for the third time. The Cardinal replied for the third time, “Who goes there?”

This time the officer’s answer was different: “We bear the body of Franz Joseph, our brother, a sinner – like us all.”

“This man we recognise”, replied the Cardinal finally, and the huge iron doors swung open to admit the body of an Emperor.

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Disappointed in Jesus?: Sermon Preached at Trinity Parish Church, Jersey, Sunday 17th July 2022 (The Fifth Sunday after Trinity)

Readings – Colossians 1: 15–28; Luke 10: 38–42

‘Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.’

Earlier this week, a member of the Trinity congregation told me they thought this was the hardest story in the Gospels to deal with. Many of us have a visceral emotional reaction to it, which we try to suppress because we want to be good Christians who value our Bibles. Yet we find ourselves disappointed in the Jesus who seems to bark at an overworked Martha when she asks for help. If that’s your instinctive reaction to the story, please don’t suppress it, but hold on to it as we unpack it.

An ’away match’ in Jersey in July; what a hardship posting?!?!? (Trinity Parish Church, 10 July 2022, © Gerry Lynch_

This reading, from Luke’s Gospel, is one of three Bible stories that mention Martha. The other two are in John’s Gospel: they are the raising of Lazarus, and then John’s version of the story of the woman pouring perfume over Jesus’ feet.

While this story refers just to “a woman named Martha” in isolation, John’s Gospel makes it clear that Jesus was very close to both Mary and Martha. In the story of the raising of Lazarus it says very directly that “Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus”.

The story in John’s Gospel of Jesus visiting the house in Bethany for a meal is so similar to the one we heard this morning that we might well wonder if they are different accounts of the same event. In that one, Martha serves dinner while Mary anoints Jesus’ feet with some very expensive perfume.

Any conversation between Jesus and Martha needs to be understood in the context that they are the closest of friends. He wasn’t snapping at a stranger.

So, I wonder was Jesus gently teasing his dear friend Martha here? Would Martha have been happy if Jesus had told her not to worry about all her jobs and being the perfect host and told her just to take it easy for a few hours? Because basically He did tell her that – “you are worried and distracted by many things, there is need of only one thing.”

We get the sense that perhaps Martha was the sort of very practical person who can’t relax until every bit of work is done – but then keeps finding another little job to do. Whereas Mary is perhaps more given to the appreciation of beauty and the good things in life, even when times are tough.

It is tempting to get our sense of our own worth from what we do, rather than from accepting what we are. Of course, we all have a regular round of tasks we need to get done to earn our living and keep ourselves and our homes in order. But that is not what makes us valuable; you, I, and every human being in the world is of value simply because we are children of God, made in the image and likeness of God. Sometimes, therefore, we need to give ourselves space to just be – to be ourselves and to be with God, to accept ourselves as the people God made us, imperfect but loveable and dearly loved by God.

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