When this is published we may have a clearer sense of the government being formed post the election. I write this just two days after the result so we currently know it is a hung parliament, with some sort of alliance, a ‘confidence and supply’ deal most likely, between the Conservatives and the DUP. But we know that a week is a long-time in politics – haven’t we experienced that this last year? So by the time the July-August edition of the magazine is out, who knows whether in fact it will be a different scenario? We wait and see. Leadership contests, another General Election – these are possible as the situation unfolds.
By the time this appears in the June edition of the magazines, I am hoping I shall on some level be back ministering within the benefice on a gradual phased return. The first thing to say is how grateful I am for everyone who picked up much in my absence: Revd Sandy Emery and Parish Administrator Christine Gibson have ensured everything has run smoothly, for which I am immensely grateful. Thanks need to be given also to the church wardens of both parishes, and to the wider clergy and reader team, who all contribute so much and have helped enormously in covering my absence, and who continue to do so as I gradually resume duties.
Have you ever had opportunity to stand in a tomb? Possibly an offer you wouldn’t want to take up! I have – in Jerusalem, in a place called the garden tomb, which probably isn’t where Christ was laid, but is probably something very like it. I remember being struck at the time that as you entered the tomb, you faced darkness, gloom, dankness. But as you turned around, the doorway became a frame for a stream of light dancing outside. That doorway was a threshold. I imagined the women at the tomb on Easter morning, having entered it and discovered bewildering absence, turning around, and seeing early dawn breaking through the doorway. Then in the stream of light, messengers of God are glimpsed (which is what the word ‘angel’ translates as) to tell them absence and darkness do not have the last word. Everything is shot through with the presence of God and through the resurrection of Christ, new life infuses everything. And then I imagine the women crossing that threshold, into the light.
Driving to my sister’s house on Christmas Day on the M5, after all the services were complete, I found myself suddenly feeling a dramatic leftwards pull on my car, and a ker-clunk ker-clunk sound started up which I knew was distinctly unhealthy! I sensed my control of the car slipping and made my way across the lanes of (admittedly low) traffic to get onto the hard shoulder – at the same time as having a distinct memory of my mobile phone left sitting on my upstairs window sill at home: the only place I get any reception!
At the end of last summer I went to stay with my friend Steve in America. Steve runs what in this country we would call ‘Forest Church’ – a congregation that gathers in the middle of the forest and is learning to engage with Christian spirituality through nature. I went along for one of the Sunday services. We met together, gathered around a tree stump which formed Steve’s altar. We prayed and opening prayer, listened to a couple of readings – one from scripture and also a beautiful poem. Instead of a sermon time, we spent time simply enjoying the forest – contemplating nature. Some drew, others wrote, others sat and meditated. One of the children created a ‘sculpture’ of Forest Church, with leaves and stones and things he had found in the forest representing all of us who gathered there. It was a peaceful, sunlit Sunday morning, and through our activities and prayers, God was worshipped.
It is hard to believe as I enter my third year here as Rector (three years in February!) that we are at the start of another New Year. It is a time when many of us take opportunity to reflect on the past and look towards the new. There may be things from this last year we need to leave behind, and there may be things we are excited about carrying on into the new season. It is always good to pause a moment, on the threshold of the turn of the year, to gather our bearings. We can never know what the year holds for ourselves, our nation and our world. But we can orientate ourselves and determine those things we wish to do or be differently this year. There is a sense both that we have come full circle, and that we can begin again, learning from and being enriched by the past.
Since the clocks went back in October, we have been watching the darker winter nights draw in. Part of me finds winter difficult: I miss the sunlight and warmth. But there are evenings when the fire is lit, and a different mood prevails. Somehow the firelight creates a cosiness and safety. The darkness outside doesn't disappear, but it keeps its place. Those wonderful words from John's Gospel come to mind, 'The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will never put it out.'
When I was a child, I was once summoned to the staff room, and told I'd been selected to have some violin lessons. I was duly presented with a violin and allowed to take it home. To this day, I am not sure why! I assume a peripatetic teacher offered some free lessons to a school to encourage interest in taking up a musical instrument - or perhaps funding had come in and I was lucky enough to be chosen. I thought it the most beautiful instrument. I immediately loved its shape, its feel. I remember fingering the bow to feel the texture and stroking the body of the violin, hardly daring to believe I had been trusted with such a thing of beauty.
Over the last couple of months, I have been thinking about human dignity. I recently went to visit my friend with whom, a few years ago, I went out to Tanzania (do come and hear more about my trip on 21st October when I shall be sharing stories and photos in the Amberley Parish Room as we enjoy a curry together). She had just returned from a six-month stay, and was discussing with me how it was so important that second-hand clothes which are shipped out are of really good quality, and of the issue of choice. We have so much choice, and can try things on in different sizes until we get the exact fit, she said, but there was a temptation to think 'anything goes' when it comes to charity. Sometimes things are so desperate, that yes, it can feel that way. But one of the joys in the work we did in Tanzania - and it was the poorest part of Tanzania with dreadful poverty - was that we helped to clothe some of the children in bright newly-made clothes that made them laugh with delight. It's a message that says, you are not second rate, but deserve the best - as the advert used to say, 'because I'm worth it'! For me, human dignity is very important and part of what every human being should have - the right to be treated with dignity, no less than anyone else. This is the Gospel - good news that supports the flourishing of all human beings and all of creation. God's love which wants each of us to know in God's eyes 'we are worth it'. We are worth the very best.
It is honestly true to say that each day when I wake, I have the sense of what privilege it is to serve as a priest within our communities. Part of that, is recognising there is a joy and trust in being able to walk alongside others, hearing others' stories - hearing your stories. Within that sharing of fellowship, it is so important we are able to encourage one another in our general day-to-day life, but also in our spiritual lives - fanning the flame of faith alive, and holding it out as light for one another when our own flame perhaps flickers. That deep connection with one another, within our shared deep connection with God, is what brings me the greatest joy. It is why I love our worship together, our regular quiet offices of morning prayer at Amberley and evening prayer at Minch, our shared planning and laughter, as well as tears and pain, as we 'walk the walk' together. I will share with you that one of the most special moments for me is that moment when you come and stand or kneel at the altar, and we may both know something of what has gone on for you that past week - and I offer out to you the bread and wine in a shared moment of Holy Communion, praying and knowing and wishing that it might be for you such an encounter of nurture and feeding, as, in faith, you receive Christ. It is a moment of almost tangible love. It's there, in the bread. It's there, in the wine.