Sabbatical blog 4: sacred space in the mess

What is there to say at the end of a week which has brought an easing of coronavirus restrictions so now we don’t know who has Covid and who hasn’t out there, and for some it’s all become a bit scary?

 What is there to say at the end of a week where we have war in Europe due to the aggression of a pariah marching into a sovereign state because he wants it, and we are seeing a catastrophic loss of life on both sides, heartbreaking scenes of families separated and a refugee crisis with numbers on the move we cannot imagine how much fear there is as suddenly the world has changed?

In a time of war and of uncertainty, where is God? 

That’s been my question this week as I’ve visited sacred spots and have struggled with the news about me. 

Last Sunday, in dreadful weather, we went up to Carlisle Cathedral. Carlisle Cathedral is delightful. Its roof of stars is stunning. The Cathedral is 900 years old this year and has a series of events planned. I love that in the summer they are putting deck chairs under the stars and encouraging people to find space…

“The last two years have been a time

of enormous challenge for everyone. Through the summer we would like to invite everyone to rest from this weariness and enjoy the wonder of the stars of our Cathedral roof. Working with local arts charity Prism Arts we will transform the Cathedral Well into a place of rest and relaxation. So why not kick back, take a load off, and rest under the stars for a time.”

How brilliant is that? We were glad to be able to join in a Taize service while in the Cathedral. Taize chants cry out to God, but also express confidence that God is real. Within our darkest night, you kindle a fire that never dies away… While the service went on, I kept staring at the roof! I really enjoyed Carlisle and will return.

On Sunday evening, we went to evening prayer at Hexham Abbey. 

Worship has been held at Hexham since the seventh century when it was a monastery. St Wilfrid and St Cuthbert are part of its story. The rector was there. He became rector in May 2020. He apparently found being on the board of priests which begins with Wilfrid rather awesome! Sadly we didn’t have long in the Abbey after the service so we need to go back. It has a lovely feel to it. 

On Tuesday lunchtime on my way home from Harrogate, I had a few minutes in Ripley. Ripley is a lovely village full of history. The Inglebys dominate the village’s story. I found a board in the church: it reminds all who enter the church this is the house of God and he is here. 

I love this:

 “Friend, you have come to this church, leave it not without a prayer. No man entering a house ignores him who dwells in it.” I may put that on the door of all the churches I serve! 

In this mad week, the visitor is also reminded of the charge to build the spiritual fabric of the nation in truth, beauty and goodness and as we draw nearer to God, we might draw nearer to each other in perfect brotherhood. (We’d say community today.) 

It was good to be reminded why church doors are open. They are not just tourist attractions but a sign that God might still be around. 

Wednesday was a longer day out on another challenging weather day! The joy of sabbatical in February! We spent some time in the northern Pennines in Teesdale and over the border into Cumbria again. I found a Methodist chapel at Forest in Teesdale… I think you might guess what I’m about to write…

We found an article in the Teesdale Mercury on line. The chapel closed on 20 October 2019. At its last service a Circuit steward said: “ “It is not what you want, but it is a sign of the times. Society moves on and people don’t value the church as much as they used to. Society is different. In those days people didn’t move far and the church was their social hub.” Really sad. I’m really shocked how many closed chapels I’m passing on our travels. 

The road from Forest took us into Alston, which claims to be the highest market town in England. It may well have been the wettest on Wednesday afternoon! I found the Parish Church which was locked, I needed a loo, it was locked, but I was heartened to see that the Roman Catholic and Methodist Church share a building. I wonder how that works. 

On Thursday came the news that President Putin had invaded Ukraine. I had a strong need in me to be in church. Had I been at work I would have opened a church for prayer on Thursday night. Suddenly war is in our face, stuff like Covid and partygate disappear from the news. 

We went to evening prayer at Ripon Cathedral. There were, apart from Canon Michael and Canon Ailsa, six of us there. Ukraine was just about mentioned. The set Psalm was Psalm 78, a list of the plagues and the pestilence on the enemy! I thought more would have been made of the situation I’d gone to pray about and more would have been there, but I’m glad we went. 

We’ve ended this week with two special days of pilgrimage. Sacred space in the North East and Yorkshire isn’t hard to find. It’s been around for centuries. 

Our first stop on Friday was to Byland Abbey which was regarded alongside Fountains and Rievaulx as one of the great monasteries of the north. I was surprised how vast the place was. There was clearly a very large Cistercian community in it. Some of the religious ruins I’ve visited so far haven’t touched me, but there was a peace walking round Byland which connected me with those who walked on the same ground I was walking on.

Just up the road from the Abbey, I found the little church at Wass. I was pleased to see the door open. Inside was a sweet and welcoming little church I could have spent a long time in. It’s so good when you find a space that just works…

Our third visit on Friday was to St Gregory’s Minster in Kirkdale. The Minster is set in a beautiful spot in the middle of nowhere. It’s website says “the only sound is birdsong, it is an enchanted place. Surrounded by trees with sheep grazing in the churchyard, it has a timeless quality.” There’s been a church on its site since 750 AD. There was also a thousand year old sundial in the porch. 

I didn’t have long in the church as one of the locals was wanting to lock up. I spotted this church is an Anglican and Methodist LEP. He clearly wasn’t happy about this and told me he’d not met the Methodist Minister!!! 

The highlight of this week was our trip out on Saturday. We weren’t going out on Saturday as we’ve done a lot this week, but I needed to find some peace. The world is not good at the moment and there are a lot of uncertainties. So often when we reach out for help God comes. When we yearn for sacred space, God shows us it. So, on Saturday, God led us I believe to two places. The first was Rievaulx Abbey.

What an amazing place! The peace walking round it was really strong. I noted most people were walking round it in silence. I found the nave particularly powerful. The Cistercian community was founded at Rievaulx in 1132. I have never heard of Aelred, the pioneering abbot of the place. I have reading to do about him. How lucky are we to have this and Fountains on our doorstep! I offered Russia and Ukraine and world peace to God in the nave standing behind what would have been the high altar. That was a special moment. 

We ended this fourth week of travelling and thinking and praying by the sea in Saltburn. I’ve always loved Saltburn and this visit included amazing colours as the sun set. God’s colours always show us the drabness won’t last for ever.

I guess this week I’ve glimpsed God in history and have been linked to that history. Prayers have been offered in sacred sites for centuries and now we have the responsibility to be the praying people for the world today. We may not live in monasteries but we still need places to go to be reminded to lift our stuff and the world’s pain and heartbreak up to him. That can be in a church but it can also be on a pier wowing at colours in the sky. We just need to do it. 

Someone sent me a poem written by Ann Weems called “I no longer pray for peace.” In the poem she says this: 

“ Some say there is no hope, 

but then I've always applauded the holy fools
who never seem to give up on the scandalousness of our faith:
that we are loved by God......
that we can truly love one another.

I no longer pray for peace:
I pray for miracles.”

When I was in the little church at Wass, there was a notice in the porch welcoming visitors into the space and peace. It offers those going in the church the words of Mother Julian: as I continue to seek sacred space and think about it, I ask the Mother’s words might be alive in me and in all of us. “All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” And you know what? The board at Ripley has it right - God must not be ignored. Even with evil about and injustice and worry about the future, all shall be well.  

Sabbatical blog 3: making my bed to swim

Sabbatical week 3 began badly folks. I stayed up watching curling. Why is curling at 3am so addictive? Anyway I overslept so our plans for my second Sunday off were not to be. We ended up at Choral Evensong at Ripon Cathedral. I’m loving how each Sunday in worship my brain gets going with a theme for the week ahead.

We shared in the liturgy from the Book of Common Prayer the glorious general confession which includes these words:

“We have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we ought not to have done; and there is no health in us, miserable offenders. Spare thou them, O God, who confess their faults. Restore thou them that are penitent; according to thy promises declared unto mankind in Christ Jesu our Lord.”

The choir then sang the Psalm, Psalm 6:

“I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears. Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it waxeth old because of all mine enemies. Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity; for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping. The Lord hath heard my supplication; the Lord will receive my prayer. Let all mine enemies be ashamed and sore vexed: let them return and be ashamed suddenly.”

We ended the service with one of my favourite hymns. I had a strong sense of the mercy of God being offered in the quietness and the powerful fact Choral Evensong using the same words which have been used since 1662 was being said and sung in sacred spaces up and down the land and that God holds us for ever with generous care. I don’t know when I lead worship whether those who suffer me sit and have deep spiritual thoughts as they are led by me, but I’m really enjoying listening for God in worship. 

John Ellerton wrote these words in the nineteenth century. They form a beautiful prayer to be sung as day ends. I was conscious as I sang them last Sunday how much peace is asked for. We were singing them as tension around Ukraine was heightening… 

“Saviour, again to thy dear Name we raise 
with one accord our parting hymn of praise; 
we stand to bless thee ere our worship cease; 
then, lowly kneeling, wait thy word of peace.

Grant us thy peace upon our homeward way; 
with thee began, with thee shall end the day. 
guard thou the lips from sin, the hearts from shame, 
that in this house have called upon thy Name.

Grant us thy peace, Lord, through the coming night; 
turn thou for us its darkness into light; 
from harm and danger keep thy children free, 
for dark and light are both alike to thee.

Grant us thy peace throughout our earthly life; 
peace to thy church from error and from strife; 
peace to our land, the fruit of truth and love; 
peace in each heart, thy Spirit from above.

Thy peace in life, the balm of every pain; 
thy peace in death, the hope to rise again; 
then, when thy voice shall bid our conflict cease, 
call us, O Lord, to thine eternal peace.”

It was good to be there. I love Choral Evensong. If you haven’t tried it, try it. Just get lost in it and let the promises of God get inside you. It’s fab! 

On Tuesday, we ventured into a part of the Dales we didn’t know at all - Dentdale. It is a really lovely part of the world. I’m really enjoying the time given to me to see the wonders of creation especially the remoteness on our doorstep. I was pleased to capture a train going across Dent Head viaduct on a photo…

I want to see some Methodist chapels in a rural context on this journey and whether they were open! So we arrived in the village of Dent and I found Dentdale Methodist Chapel just down the road from the car park. The door was open. 

The chapel had just a few chairs out with a table in front of them. It looked a bit sad if I’m honest. I wondered how many come to the 2pm service when it is held. They still use the stencil thing I had at school in the 1970’s to do posters for a coffee morning! 

I picked up a leaflet in the chapel about the       origins of some of the free churches on the North Yorkshire and Cumbria border in the Western Dales. We drove to find Cautley chapel which is in a beautiful setting at the foot of the fells with a graveyard (as had the chapel in Dent) but the door was locked. 

I later found in a set of minutes of the Cumbria District Synod, the chapel at  Cautley had ceased to meet. I found myself overwhelmed with        sadness. We are finding so many little chapels turned into houses on this journey. The Sedbergh Methodist Circuit has only a few churches in it. And what do you do with graveyards in churches that have closed? 

We ended Tuesday as we were near the M6     going into Carnforth. We found the station of Brief Encounter fame - a space where two souls met in a refreshment room for risky and exciting         encounter! 

“Could you really say goodbye? Never see me again?”

“Yes, if you’d help me.

“I love you Laura. I shall love you always until the end of my life. I can’t look at you now cause I know something. I know this is the beginning of the end. Not the end of my loving you but the end of our being together. But not quite yet darling. Please: Not quite yet.”

“Very well. Not quite yet.”

On Wednesday, I went to visit Copt Hewick, a   village a few miles away from us. The church was open. It was quite pleasant but I was sad it only has one 9am Sunday service a month in it. Over the road was the long since closed Methodist chapel. I’m passionate about rural presence. I am so sad to have seen, even in just three weeks, little faithful sacred spots clearly struggling and desperately holding on, and others who have been turned into rather nice homes or tragically left abandoned. 

My chaplaincy duty at Fountains Abbey this week was very wet! I abandoned walking about after about an hour as they were very few people about. To try and keep dry, I went into the porter’s lodge. The porter used to keep silence with his head bowed while the monks gathered for the  different prayer times of the day. There were   seven of them. I’m keen to explore more worship times other than Sunday morning. Imagine        reintroducing seven services every day! A bit of terce and sext. 

I discovered sext when I led a series of Lent studies for a high church Anglican community. I didn’t know how to respond when the vicar asked me at the end of the session “are you joining us for sext?” There has to be some benefit to us as a community of regular prayer and quiet doesn’t there? We struggle with      gathering times of prayer today in my tradition. 

On the way back from Fountains, I called in at the little church at Aldfield, dedicated to St Laurence the Martyr. I was surprised to see box pews and a three decker pulpit in it. It was a lovely space. A community has gathered in this spot since the 13th century. Simon Jenkins in his thousand best churches says it feels more like a Methodist chapel. It does! 

Our last journey this third week was to the church at Lastingham. 

Lastingham Church was built on the site of St. Cedd’s monastery. There is a crypt which was built over the place it is believed Cedd is buried. I found my time in the crypt deeply    moving. It was oozing with sacredness and peace. It felt soaked in the prayers of the faithful who have descended into it over approximately  seven centuries. I was glad to be part of that group for a few moments. 

This third week of sabbatical hasn’t been the easiest. My brain has thought several times it must be time to go back to my churches. I’ve had to refocus. Every church I’ve visited this week has had a story. Some of them are wondering I guess where the story is going now. The story of the faithful though has seen that faithful go through really hard times. 

The monks at Fountains had a hard life, they went through the Black Death, and then had to face the inevitable surrender to Henry VIII as he brutally dissolved all they knew. Cedd and his brother Chad who followed him at       Lastingham lived lives of courage. Remember we aren’t persecuted for being Christians! 

The little chapels in Dentdale were built to serve those building the railways who lived in desperate poverty. The chapels gave folk dignity, education and shared the faith with folk the established church shunned. I guess this week I’ve learnt In many ways, as the Psalmist’s words we sang last Sunday the Lord will receive our prayers. We enter his space and leave our concerns with him. 

Stuart Burgess, who was the President of the  Methodist Conference the year I was ordained, has written a lovely little book called “Making Connections: some holy places and people of Yorkshire” - reflecting on sitting in the crypt at Lastingham which he describes as overwhelming, offers a prayer a Celtic Christian would wear as a charm to protect him from danger and keep his mind on the strength of God. I pray it’s our prayer too…

“May God shield you on every step. May Christ keep you on every path. May the Spirit bathe you in every pass.” 

Sabbatical blog 2: Moving towards God

I’ve been thinking all week about the collect which we shared last Sunday in worship at Ripon Cathedral:

“O God, you know us to be set in the midst of so many and great dangers, that by reason of the frailty of our nature we cannot always stand upright: grant to us such strength and protection as may support us in all dangers and carry us through all temptations; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.”

We cannot always stand upright. We need to move towards God when we are wobbling. Maybe to avoid falling, we need a sacred space to deliberately and intentionally seek God as a priority.

The first Sunday of a sabbatical is a funny one. Where shall I go to church? Shall I bother? The bed was very comfortable as I rolled over at 9.50am! I’m glad I got out of it as it was good to worship in our cathedral. I’ve underused it due to the pandemic. It’s a gift on our doorstep. The service was celebrating the Queen’s accession and the preacher, a retired Bishop, living in the Diocese, reminded us in seven minutes about the nature of a servant. The Queen had signed a letter to her subjects on the eve of the 70th anniversary of her accession, “your servant.” 

The Dean asked how many gathered knew where they were on 6 February 1952. I think about 80% put their hand up! There were some families there as there was a small junior church. Were there any visitors present? It was difficult to tell.

On Sunday afternoon, we went up the A1 to Durham to join in 3.30pm Choral Evensong at the Cathedral. I always feel a huge sense of awe when I go into Durham Cathedral. It has to be for me the most sacred indoor space in the country. It’s been a place of sanctuary for centuries. On Friday 19 January 2007 I went and sat in the nave. After a very bruising experience I had almost decided to leave Circuit ministry. I remember where I sat. I found peace. Fifteen years later I’m still here - just! 

The service on Sunday afternoon was another celebration of the accession. I never knew there was a service for the accession of the monarch in the Book of Common Prayer. The Bishop of Durham in his sermon reminded us of the Queen’s faith which has been a comfort and strength to her especially in trouble. I’ve always said the best Christmas sermon you will hear is delivered at 3pm on Christmas Day. 

We madly went to a third service last Sunday. Lis went to university in Durham and attended St.Nic’s Church in the Market Square. She had not been in the church for 36 years. I wasn’t sure about going to the service as it was informal worship and sometimes I’ve struggled with conservative evangelical worship done badly with almost theological bullying from the worship leader and a Jesus presented who is sugary sweet and a message that if we are struggling it’s our fault…

There was none of that on Sunday night. The service was gently pastoral and there was a good exposition of 1 Corinthians 2. I only knew one of the songs, but all of them were led by ably by a pianist and a singer so I could enter into them without knowing them. 

What impressed me most in this sacred space was it was full of teenagers and those in their twenties, presumably mostly university students. They were all there because they wanted to be and were clearly cared for by the church. There was going to be gathering in the pub after the service for those who wanted it. Mid way through the service a homeless man came into the porch. He was quietly helped by the church warden and the vicar. Various agencies in the city were contacted to get him a bed for the night. 

What I learnt from being at St. Nic’s was when a church takes its context seriously it can be alive, and that you really need to enter every sacred space with your heart and your mind open. God will surprise us. I had been convinced I would hate this service! I would like to return…

Monday afternoon saw us take a trip over to Jervaulx Abbey. Jervaulx was once a Cistercian community. It is now a collection of ruins. I didn’t find any atmosphere or sacredness walking round it. I’m sure others might find it helpful. It was wet and miserable. I guess I learnt on Monday, some sacred spaces will speak to you and others won’t, like churches even if you journey expectantly. What a contrast from the night before! 

I was back at Fountains Abbey on Wednesday afternoon doing chaplaincy duty. I find my two hour slots really helpful to clear my head. I also enjoy talking to people as I walk round the site. This week I was led to the words of the Desiderata: “Go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence.” To get away from noise even for a few hours or even minutes every week is essential for a healthy spiritual life. 

I spent a lot of my time this week in the Abbey itself. Like at Jervaulx, there would have been an intentional moving towards God by a faithful and prayerful community disciplined to seek God regularly. I wonder whether we’ve lost this in our church life now. Maybe before we do anything in meetings we need to intentionally ask what God is doing or saying. Like I wrote last week about trying to find my spark again, maybe we’ve lost our spark in our churches… maybe we need to seek God in new ways. We are struggling to stand upright. Discuss! 

Thursday was an interesting day. We stopped at the church in West Tanfield and the Marmion Tower next to it. I’ve driven past both a lot but have never stopped. The Marmion Tower was built by the Marmion family and was the gatehouse to a long gone Manor House. 

The steps were a bit of a challenge! 

The church had an awful lot of tombs in it. John and Elizabeth Marmion have pride of place. They lie under a bier, a portable frame with candles on it placed over a cloth over the deceased prior to burial. It’s the only one in the country. There was also a lot in the church about praying for the souls of the dead and purgatory. There were several chantries in the village at one time. I did think the church was more of a museum than a sacred space but perhaps that’s unfair. I did wonder what sort of congregation there is today. 

After our Tanfield stop, we ventured into Wensleydale and found some very interesting narrow roads to tackle in the middle of nowhere. We found Tan Hill Inn, the highest pub in the country. We didn’t go in as it looked busy which was a shame. Clearly it’s a space that draws people to it. Some people were snowed in for days the other month and enjoyed it! We made do with a spicy sausage in batter from a chippy in Catterick village - a big mistake! 

Our final trip this second week of sabbatical exploration was on a very sunny Friday to Whitby and to Whitby Abbey. In 657, Hilda became the founding abbess of the Abbey at the age of 43. She remained there until her death 23 years later. She formed, as she did in Hartlepool (which we will visit another week) a double monastery, with men and women living separately but worshipping together in church. 

The church historian Bede tells us of life at Whitby. All property and goods were held in common. Christian virtues were exercised especially peace and charity. Everyone had to study the Bible and do good works. He describes Hilda as a woman of great energy who was a skilled administrator and teacher. She gained such a reputation for wisdom that kings and princes sought her advice. But she also cared for ordinary people. Bede further says “All who knew her called her mother because of her outstanding devotion and grace.”

Finding the sacred in life isn’t just about place it is also about those who led us to the sacred. Saints like Hilda are used by God to lead a wobbling humanity back into his protecting care and love. Like Durham Cathedral, I found Whitby Abbey on Friday to be a symbol of the sacred being there as an antidote to the dangers and frailty of life. Hilda knew the need of God in 657. We need to know our need of God in a largely godless world in 2022. What made the people walking round the Abbey on Friday make the journey? Were they tourists or were some of them pilgrims? It was very powerful to be the last two people there as the site was about to close at 4pm. Fabulous!

So what have I learnt from this second week? 

That we need to intentionally enter sacred space to be whole and healthy as people.

That we need to be prepared to have our ideas what might happen challenged.

That maybe God has moved on from some places that were important and now aren’t.

That we need to have familiar spaces that fill us with awe and set us right after being in them again.

And that we need to thank God for the saintly people in his story who draw us back and save us when we are struggling to stand upright. 

We don’t use the collect for Sunday enough in our tradition. The one for this past week has really helped me think and focus. I wonder what the one for tomorrow might say… as the old wayside pulpit outside a church once said “if you are feeling far away from God, guess who moved?”

Sabbatical blog 1: Where is God to be found?

I’ll be blogging once a week through this sabbatical. I’m trying to discover sacred space and what draws people to it, and also I’m trying to stand where others in the story of Christianity in this country stood and shared how exciting the encounter with God is. 

Sabbatical learning should make a difference when you return to your churches so I’m hoping to have new ideas how we make our churches open and accessible sacred spaces and how we can be more ready to seek the sacred in the world. 

This sabbatical journey began on Tuesday with a really helpful time with a friend on zoom of getting issues in my head to do with work filed away for a while and letting them go, then sharing my hopes for this time and beyond. Sadly I never had a sabbatical support group where this sort of thing happens. 

 I recognised on Tuesday my desperate need for space, to find my spark again and most of all to look for God around me. So I decided on Tuesday lunchtime to begin this time by sitting in a rural church in silence… I headed for the church at Kirby Hill. A really beautiful church in a lovely setting. Alas, it was locked. There was a key available from a church warden but not knowing the village I didn’t know where to go to get it. 

I arrived a bit later in Topcliffe. I found a very large church but again it was not only locked but padlocked! There was a sad Methodist closed building across the road being turned into expensive housing no doubt. I hate seeing churches that have closed. 

I guess Tuesday taught me my first lesson on this journey. The sacred is not just found going into a church building! We’ve become so keeping our buildings going focussed, we’ve lost sight that God is down the street, let loose in the world, in the unexpected and the surprise. 

I have been reflecting on the call of Moses this week. He found God not in a traditional sacred space but in a bush burning at the side of the road which got his attention. God reminded him it isn’t about going to holy ground often, the place on which we stand is holy. So while it was annoying to find two churches locked and another long abandoned, I had a nice drive out in the sunshine through some pretty villages and felt relaxed… so maybe I met the holy after all… 

On the way back home I thought I might try the church in Sharow for my planned quiet. It was open… but not for me… there was a funeral party coming out as I drove up to it! At least it was open for something!

Wednesday saw us in Swaledale. I have a copy of Simon Jenkins’ book on England’s thousand best churches and the little church at Downholme is in it. The first church I’ve got in on this journey! The church is somewhat outside the village. The inside was simple but welcoming. I was the first visitor according to the visitors book since 18 January. I wonder how many they get on a Sunday? There’s not a service every week.

What a beautiful setting! Simon Jenkins describes it as lost in a valley, surrounded only by dales, fields, and drystone walls. A scattering of sheep and cows is serenaded by curlews, permits and (mostly) crows, and he concludes “it is a place of remarkable peace.” 

From Downholme we went into Reeth. I used the time while Lis went into a wool and craft shop and then had a phone call in the car to explore a bit. As on Tuesday it was easy to sense God in the fresh air, although I did also find a very scary Christian bookshop. What sort of God is encountered at answers in Genesis.org!?

I decided I’d stick to the glory of creation!

It’s interesting to note people need space. Not necessarily spiritual, but time. That’s already a gift I’m enjoying even a few days into this sabbatical. I’m glad Lis has found a lovely craft place and I laughed out loud calling in the pub to use the necessary and overhearing a conversation on suet puddings and then toilet paper! 

“Izal had a rough edge: it was the John Wayne of toilet paper…”

On Thursday, after dipping into a book I found on the bookcase in the hall on The Great North Road, all about delights you can find just off the A1, I went to see the church at Kirk Hammerton. My book told me it is one of the oldest churches in the country having been dedicated to St. Quentin in the ninth or tenth century. I looked up who Quentin was. He seems to have been beheaded as a martyr in the third century in France. I wonder why he had a church in North Yorkshire dedicated to him?

Inside the church was very dark. There were some murals in the lady chapel. I found some light switches but couldn’t find the one that would enable me to see them. A pity. It was good to find a village magazine which showed close working with the Methodist chapel next door. I loved reading the chapel opens for coffee and cake… how fabulous is this paragraph? 

“Pop along to chapel, you can leave a prayer on the tree, or just come for a piece of cake and chat with Grace, our minister. You don’t need to be religious, or pray, to be welcome for cake. It’s our way of saying thank you for being an amazing village and loving each other so well over the last eighteen months.” How many people have found the sacred through kindness in Covid times? There’s a chapter for my book! 

Thursday afternoon saw me at Fountains Abbey for two hours on the chaplaincy rota. I love wandering about and I’m able to do this more over these months. People come to Fountains Abbey for space, time out, but maybe also to connect with the spiritual. I like to stand in the Abbey and think how many prayers since its institution have been offered in it. 

I discovered Studley Royal deer park for the first time on Thursday and the rather amazing Victorian St. Mary’s Church. It isn’t open until Easter so a look inside will have to wait. But it’s opulence and grandeur when churchgoing was at a height is something to think about. Was building a grand place with lots of money really anything to do with sacred space or was it about philanthropic importance? There’s a whole ecclesiastical can of worms that could be opened on that subject! 

On Friday afternoon we had a drive into Nidderdale. Here the sacred was easy to encounter in the vastness of the middle of nowhere and when it began to snow! 

I wanted to find the church at Middlesmoor, a tiny village at the head of Upper Nidderdale, reached by journeying along a long and very winding road. The village has a lot of cobbled ginnels and in the swirling wind and sleet finding the way to the church wasn’t easy. But it was worth the effort! If only for the view from the churchyard… the heavens are telling the glory of God! 

So what have I learnt from the first four days of sabbatical? 

1. We need to get our church doors open a lot more. People are wanting to explore the story of divine encounter. A locked door for them is a missed opportunity. People more and more want a place to go and be, and some are looking for that sacred space in a religious building. I hope to explore this more when I do some days with the clergy and team in Ripon Cathedral.

 I was so disappointed when I found after a journey to a church on two occasions this week it was locked. I’m still passionate about using our sanctuary space more not just our halls for outside bookings. What’s the point of only using part of our building once a week? Get it open! You’ll be surprised what happens next.

2. We need to learn again that sacred space is everywhere. Perhaps contrary to my last paragraph I have learnt again there is nowhere God cannot be met (except in a vile Jimmy Carr stand up routine maybe.) 

I’ve not had much chance to discover the wonder of God’s creation in his own county. Sheep surrounding a rural church, silence apart from birdsong at Fountains Abbey, the drama of clouds in the sky and driving sleet in Upper Nidderdale… I recall Richard Coles saying on a BBC Winter Walk programme he looks forward to retirement and having time to stare at things… to return to Moses, God says to him “the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” If that’s so, how we treat the world and other people in that world matters. Take off your shoes! 

And 3. I think even after four days I’m acutely aware I’ve neglected the spiritual discipline of turning aside. Running churches sometimes means church leaders don’t run to God. It’s easier to have your own agenda or just respond to the demands of how we keep the show on the road  because seeking God might lead you to new things and we can’t cope with new things… we are tired. But what if we turned aside and got excited about what we saw again? 

Canon Cathy Zappa is Canon for Spirituality and Mission at St. Philip’s Cathedral in Atlanta. She writes this in a Lent sermon which is exactly where I find myself - minus a dog…

“ I had a busy week last week, running from one thing to the other, and almost always running behind. I woke up on my day off scattered and exhausted, with a dozen to-dos hanging over my head. I knew I should get straight to work. But I didn’t. Instead, I decided to go on a walk with my dog. Now, usually when I walk, I’m focused on covering a respectable distance in a respectable amount of time. My dog, however, is not; so usually, I set the pace and pull her along. But this time, I let her lead.

She turned out to be a good guide for this particular walk, which was also a prayer. Not at all concerned about keeping a schedule or qualifying our excursion as exercise, she kept turning aside, to smell the roses—and every bush, tree, mailbox, trashcan, pile of poop, and other dogs on the way.

And as I slowed down with her, I noticed that the ground she was sniffing, the ground we were walking on, was sacred ground, indeed; and I was blown away by divine epiphanies all around us: the warm blue sky, deep pink buds outlining the arms of redbud trees, a hawk sailing above me, peace in my own soul.

I saw how much I’d been missing by rushing through my tasks, pursuing some imaginary state called “being caught up” and trying to earn my right to rest--instead of allowing myself to rest and trust in God’s love and care, here and now. I saw how this simple walk—this slow and unproductive and mindful walk-- was a statement of faith, too: faith that I’m more than what I get done; faith that the fate of the world doesn’t rest on my shoulders, after all; faith that God’s got me and the whole world in God’s hands.

What about you? How is God trying to get your attention? And will you turn aside—to see the holy ground under your feet, and to hear the God who is calling to you?”

Isn’t that a fabulous paragraph? More next week… oh, and we are also discovering it’s okay to sleep on a sabbatical too!