My sabbatical blog 3 - yearning for community

I usually write my sermon on a Saturday afternoon - it is odd to be at home and have a Saturday afternoon where I don't need to write one - although I have services to write for 22nd and 29th May which I am leading as part of sabbatical reflections and must begin to think about them soon as I am soon on my travels again. I am using Saturday here to blog after a through clean and sort of my house. Strangely therapeutic!

This last week I returned to Edinburgh after my retreat on Holy Island for a few days simply watching the city and doing touristy things. I was struck as I walked round how many people are simply yearning for community all around us.

There is the community that is formed through a shared activity. On Monday I braved wind and hail to go on a fun three hour boat trip on the Firth of Forth under the two bridges and under the new Queensferry crossing being built. How tragic that a workman was killed on it later in the week. Those of us who braved sitting outside had a great time being blown about. "The boat may move up and down or sideways unexpectedly" said your man. We laughed together. We also reflected how many of our fellow passengers stayed inside and therefore didn't see very much, a waste of the time and money really.





There is the community that is formed through a shared cause. On Princes Street on Tuesday I passed a protest campaign for better wages for the lowest paid. I signed the petition. People were stopping to chat. Some to disagree with the arguments but it was interesting to watch people coming together passionate for change. I was invited in the evening to a rally for a second independence vote (which I didn't go to!)

There is the community people say they want to build. I was in Edinburgh the week before the Scottish Parliament election, so there was plenty to read and watch, the different parties views all wanting to make life better. I visited the Scottish Parliament which was an interesting morning.


One scene though hit me hard about yearning for community. There seemed to be an awful lot of homeless people on the streets in Edinburgh, perhaps more than I see in London when I go there. I watched a young girl for ages with her head bowed down to the ground and her hands clasping a paper cup inviting people to put change in it. She wasn't going to make eye contact, like she was not worthy of being in the same space as them. I was bothered by her. That morning I had visited a really encouraging project in the West End of the city called Social Bite. Social Bite is a project which helps homeless people, many of the workforce were homeless themselves. It is a simple idea, you go in and order your coffee and your bacon sandwich and you pay for yours but also for another coffee and another bacon sandwich for someone on the street to have later. The cafe opens in the evening for homeless people to go in to eat and be with others. It seemed to me to be an expression of hospitality for the stranger. It hit me after my day first being here, then seeing that girl, then hearing the vote in Parliament to take in children who are refugees had been lost. It was powerful that I went to evensong the next day where the prayers included the phrase "remember the refugee and the exile."            





I discovered a new really special and important sacred space while in Edinburgh - St Mary's Episcopal Cathedral, an awesome building and the wonder of sung evensong touched my soul. I may well have transferred to the Scottish Episcopal Church and not return in July!! The choir were magnificent every night, the anthem in amazing acoustics went towards heaven, and I especially enjoyed for two weeks in this space and on Holy Island reading Psalms very slowly or hearing them sung. From Sunday to Tuesday it took six services to get through Psalm 119, the longest Psalm in the Psalter. On the day I met the girl, encountered Social Bite, hit social protest, reflected on politics and words about justice, we hit an amazing part of Psalm 119, just right, because I had that girl on my brain as I entered the cathedral and prepared for worship. The cathedral used (of course) the Book of Common Prayer and so the Psalms are there in the King James Version, in my opinion the best version of the Bible to encounter their power. A lot of more modern versions slaughter the original meaning.
The phrase that hit me was from verse 83 - perhaps the plight of the outsider still believing in God and doing through the motions but hit hard by life. I love the Psalms because the writer has a rubbish day and says so: "for I am become like a bottle in the smoke..."
I have had to get my commentary out to get the verse! Something about being choked by life, not able to breathe, Clarke's commentary is helpful: in the eastern countries their bottles are made of skins; one of these hung in the smoke must soon be parched and shrivelled up. This represents the exhausted state of his body and mind by long bodily affliction and mental distress.
Is not the Christian call simply to lead people from whatever state they find themselves into community? It was the hope of the Psalmist that faithfulness to God despite hell on earth happening to him or her would in the end bring hope. Verse 83 ends "but I have kept your statutes."
I also wondered why people dropped into the Cathedral at 5.30pm when they could have gone home, instead of spend 50 minutes there. Perhaps they as much as the homeless, the exile, the victim, the forgotten, need to know they are included too? The Cathedral certainly changed me, that's for sure. 
I am returning in November. 

    

So that's my thoughts on community from week three. Next time I will reflect on some acts of worship I will experience this coming week. Tomorrow I am worshipping in a Methodist Church in my neighbouring Circuit, on Monday I will be in London so will try and get to evensong in St Paul's Cathedral, on Tuesday I will be at a funeral in Mossley where nearly a whole town I reckon will come together to celebrate an amazing lady...

As I thought about how to end this I looked at the pile of books by my desk. I found a little book I bought on a visit to Canterbury Cathedral, called "Pilgrim's Guide and Journal: Information and Inspiration for your Sacred Journey." At the end of the book there are two quotes about having found community on a journey you have to be different - first a prayer of a former slave preacher: "Lord, we ain't what we want to be; we ain't what we ought to be; we ain't what we gonna be, but, thank God, we ain't what we was." Then the blessing given you when you end the walk on pilgrimage to Santiago Cathedral down the El Camino de Compostela:
"Keep the pilgrim spirit always. Now go and live your lives without fear."

I have found in three and a bit weeks community where you encounter it in its joy and surprise can bless you beyond measure. The challenge in me is to make it happen for others who feel like the Psalmist in her/his 83rd verse, and that poor girl facing the ground and her paper cup. How can we work for a world where all are included and can get on with life without fear?
Perhaps the new Scottish Parliament will sort it all!

My sabbatical blog 2 - Holy Island

I am writing this blog in my hotel room in Edinburgh as it has turned bitterly cold outside! I will write about Edinburgh and going home and a trip to Mossley for a funeral of an amazing lady next week but this writing is about what an amazing six day retreat on Holy Island has done to me.

My former colleague Kerry Tankard sent an R S Thomas poem to me on Sunday called "Gift":
Some ask for the world and some are diminished in the receiving of it.
You gave me only this small pool that the more I drink from, the more overflows me with sourceless light."

Lindisfarne for me is that small pool - the more I go there the more overflowed with light I feel. When the taxi turns the corner after Beal and you see the causeway and the Island in the distance you are overwhelmed with peace. I wonder what tourists going over for the day get from the place as they wander around? I can't see how you can't come away with something changed in you. This was my eighth retreat in Cambridge House and for me perhaps being part of a sabbatical - and already rested and blessed from my days with the Emmaus House team in this City, it was my best so far.

I really appreciated several things. First the privilege of community - the sense of no longer strangers but pilgrims. A time of deep conversation over meals, some deep stuff shared with real trust (perhaps a model we should revisit in churches where so many are destroyed when trust breaks down. Remember the Methodist class meeting and what it did and the call to watch over one another in love!) This time it was different as I shared this time with people I knew from before either on the Island previously or elsewhere. Jacqui, Lis, Kim and I got on well - we had a lovely evening for example sharing a bottle of wine in a hotel bar and Lis and I had two afternoon tea meetings. Kim and I (both Superintendent Methodist presbyters) put the church to rights one evening over a few glasses of cherryade as well. Very civilised! There were other retreatants with us Joanna, Sue and Fiona who we got to know less well but all of them on leaving said goodbye like we had shared a special space and time together. Community is built when we listen to each other's stories, when we respect other people's journey, when we invest time in the other. Are we too busy doing stuff to the detriment of building each other up? People want to be wanted and valued.

Secondly I appreciated time to simply be in the silence of God's presence. This was best done on Thursday afternoon when I did my once a visit long walk over the dunes to the most amazing beach
ever - and to have it to yourself is an awesome thing. Every time though I think I know how to get back but always manage to have to scramble under a wire fence as the path out is nowhere near! I   then sat by the causeway with the tide in in absolute quiet for ages - so long I got sunburnt - just listening to the birds sing, cuddy Ducks quack and seals in the distance make whatever noise seals make and the gentle wind. I remember the poem " a poor life this if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare." (William Henry Davies "Leisure" ) Lindisfarne reminds me every time I am a human being not a human doing. Do we need to build into every day some time to be silent and watch?

Finally I think I am really enjoying receiving worship and not leading it - though I am doing some on this journey. The evening prayer every day in St Mary's Church was powerful - a huge awareness that being there I am becoming part of the story of faithful Christian worship held on Lindisfarne since Aidan arrived in the 7th century. The rhythm of the prayers is beautiful - once you get used to the pause as you read aloud at the black dot! I loved Canon Kate every night reminding us that we need to thank God for everything we have done, the people we have met, that have shown us that small pool to return to R S Thomas. I also deeply appreciated receiving communion kneeling this side of a rail on Sunday morning.

When Holy Island "gets you" your perspective alters. God's Kingdom is come! It is a thin place full of small pools. The God moments are many from worshipping, eating, listening, sharing with God's other creatures this bit of earth - who knew an afternoon watching sheep and lambs can bring you so much joy? When you meet with fellow children of God away from church programmes we talk about life - not refurbishments or fund raising or damp - important though these things are. If we are the people of God then we need more God time and we need to create the time in our daily routine. I am writing this having been to evensong - I have prayed at 5.30 for the last two weeks and have found it to be so helpful. Can I do this every day in my prayer space at home - especially when I am back at work after this time? Also time like this retreat time reminds us of the power and the possibility of God.
I read this in the quiet room at Cambridge House waiting for a taxi on Sunday. In a book on the Celtic saints was this amazing paragraph:
"One of the hallmarks of the saints (like Aidan and Cuthbert) was their recognition of the immanence of the Kingdom and their ability to live in it daily. The saints teach us to let go, relax and let the order of the universe flow through us. We learn to give thanks constantly for the present moment and to be satisfied. This dwelling in the Kingdom of heaven gives us an amazing freedom. We let go of judgments and preoccupations and know that all is well and moving towards healing.
We slowly learn to allow things to be as they are. We do not need to make things happen, rather we allow their coming. What people say and do cannot make us unhappy at a deep level, for our joy is a constant state to be entered into at will, it is unchanging and exists beyond appearances."
("Celtic Pilgrimage - Sites, seasons and Saints" by Elaine Gill and David Everett)

The writers go on to remind us the purpose of going to places like Holy Island is to heal the soul and to set aside time in a place set apart when we can consider and reconsider without busyness.

It should add depth and meaning to life when you are back home - that small pool.
So thank you Holy place for your power and your peace and your placing of me in community with others and with you, with the saints and with the God who has always something new to show us. I will be back next year.

My first sabbatical blog - 20 April 2016

Two weeks into this sabbatical I am finally somewhere I can get internet access! So I am sitting in the bar of the Manor House Hotel on Holy Island writing this.

It has been the most amazing two weeks! I feel so blessed and am so grateful for this gift of time and space as I do some research and sharing about what makes community - and I spend time resting, reading, praying and meeting old and new friends on the way. 

Much to my surprise I am being led to write a book as the days go by. I have 100 days off duty and I am pondering 100 reflections for 100 days - very much a working title but perhaps a picture, a thought and a prayer for travelling people and communities moving on. This has developed from my posting images every day so far on Facebook - friend request me if you want to join this aspect of my time! 

I think so far I have learnt four things about journeying and finding community.

1. You have to let baggage go and remember where you are starting from. I had to sit up til 1.25am on Wednesday 6th April to get my list done and I know there were things left undone! I had to get to a point where others were trusted to carry stuff on, some quite big stuff. I felt waking up a few hours later a real sense of peace. Also there was nothing ahead apart from agreed preaching appointments I was responsible for! I began sabbatical returning to my home town of Harpenden, taking Mum to hospital. I stayed two nights in my old bedroom! I walked round Harpenden town centre, a beautiful place, I went out with two good friends who were in youth group with me, I sat in the magnificent sanctuary of High Street Methodist Church on a pew my Grandad probably made in 1930 and dedicated this time to God. I am looking forward to leading worship at High Street next month. How you start a journey is important. Who you are and your beginnings in life can shape who you are. It was important I had time at the beginning to deal with stuff, lists, tidying, washing, mother, concentrated prayer time to travel well. 

2. Communities and you change! It was an absolute joy to be invited to return to lead worship at Oakham and Empingham churches in Rutland, ten years on from leaving them. It was very strange staying in a manse I had lived in. Charlotte and Leo Osborn were wonderfully kind hosts. I loved leading communion at Oakham - we had a real celebration. They felt lighter and apparently I have changed too! Someone said " I sat there and thought "is this the Ian we had here 100's of years ago?""

Empingham in the afternoon was a wonderful occasion - the tenth anniversary of our refurbishing the premises. The Circuit turned out in big numbers and we opened a time capsule we put together ten years ago - a very smelly Rutland Times and a 90p Methodist Recorder and hopes for 2016 written by the 2006 congregation. Some of the folk are not here now. Others still are. Going back somewhere you have shared you hear stories of how things have moved. At Oakham it was good to see people I did not know and to remember people who had died since I was there. Two members had died the week before I led the worship. 

3. Christian communities when open and inclusive can grow or at least give people life. I was glad to have Emmaus House in Edinburgh recommended to me. A Christian community set up by the Scottish Episcopal Church, a lovely community, a shared breakfast table with people from all over the world (and Selsey!) in six days and a great prayer time each morning in a chapel in a shed. I discovered in Edinburgh walking around how many churches were open and doing community stuff. St Johns at the west end of Princes Street is an inclusive community open to all. Sunday worship there was great - a lovely liturgy and a beautiful sung setting of the Beatitudes, I also discovered St Mary's Cathedral, one of the most awesome sacred spaces I have ever been in. I sat in there for hours watching people come and go, and returned twice for worship, one amazing choral Eucharist and one choral evensong. I might have asked for a transfer and not return! I did find the City of Edinburgh Methodist Church and its wonderful cafe, and also I appreciated lunchtime prayers at St Giles on the Royal Mile. Numbers coming to acts of worship in these places were quite large - and quite young. All searching I guess for something. In Newcastle on Monday I visited Brunswick Methodist, open for coffee and also while I was there holding a listening ear service and a young parents and carers drop in. A question I have is as people drop in to things how does a church keep everything running? Do new groups and more acts of worship create new leaders from within them? How do you lead droppers in to Christian faith and commitment? Or are people wanting needs met and then return when they need them meeting again, like me and going to retreat places or Lindisfarne regularly? For now I rejoice in churches being open and out there. In Edinburgh there is also some fab inter faith stuff going on - Sikhs giving out food on the North Bridge for example and talking to clients about faith.

4. That in order to do anything you need to take in. So I am here for six days on Holy Island in the wonderful community of Marygate House and this time here with by coincidence two lovely people I have been here with before which makes shared meals more fun! More on this bit next time I find some wifi, but just to say the fabulous weather, daily prayer in the church and sitting watching the world go by is just great. 

So that's my first two weeks. One final thought on community for now - at the bar here is a group of young adults who clearly know each other well and those who are meant to be working. They keep looking at me waiting for me to leave as I am the only one in here apart from them! Community that says it is open needs to be open - I feel uncomfortable so I am going. Perhaps a lesson when our churches are perceived as private parties!!