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!
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