Saturday 26 February 2022

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.  






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