Sabbatical blog 8: The comfort of sacred space

This week began with my one preaching appointment while on sabbatical. I spent a recuperative year in the Fens Circuit in 2019 to 2020 and the pandemic meant my time in the Circuit working ended in March 2020 and we left in August 2020 without saying goodbye to some dear folk who helped us enormously while I recovered from major trauma being really unwell and bereaved at having to leave full time ministry for a while. 

So it was good to be able to return to the Fens Circuit to lead worship at Upwell. Sunday was a happy occasion. We only spent a few months in the Circuit, but we both commented that we felt like we’d not been away and we felt like it was like coming back to a place of warmth and care. The sacred spaces on our journey are all part of us. All the churches I’ve been involved with in the last 25 years are part of me. I’m not sure the folk in the Fens realise how much I owe them. I was a mess when I arrived in their Circuit, l left them healed and restored. I was glad on Sunday to be able to say thank you to some of them.

While we were in the Fens for the day we took the opportunity to visit folk from the two little churches we tried to support by being amongst them. First of the two was Murrow. Murrow are struggling with numbers and a crumbling building but they keep going. They are the only Christian presence in what is a large village. They have an amazing monthly stall full of treasures donated to them to sell for church funds. We were glad to meet with Maureen and Sheila and Maureen and Eric on Sunday afternoon to give them encouragement to keep going. Three churches in the Circuit have closed since we were with them.

The church we most supported while in the Fens was the little chapel at Tydd St Giles. Sadly we discovered it was riddled with dry rot and the building closed in August 2019. We were given hospitality by the Parish Church for our service but sadly by March 2020 numbers had dwindled through health issues to three people plus us. The pandemic then came, and the society has never met again. Two of the folk, Mollie and George Rollins became very dear to us. They are both almost 92 and don’t go out very far now. We were so glad to visit them on Sunday. George was in the garden of their little small holding mending his greenhouse which he told me he put together 70 years ago!

A pastoral visit became sacred space as we shared conversation. It was a privilege to sit with them. They miss chapel a lot. Lis was glad to come away with a gift of a bag of sprouting broccoli! 

I’ve been doing more thinking about Moses and his encounter with God this week. We need to be open to finding the comfort of God a lot more. We need to take more time to take in. 

On Monday I had my annual check up with the practice nurse at the surgery. I got the 55 and over lecture (!) but she also told me to create more time just for me as I work with people all week and have in normal time so many things to think about that my head explodes! So this week I’ve just stood and stared a bit. We had a lovely drive out on Tuesday evening and the colours at sunset over the Ribbleshead Viaduct were amazing. 

We also had another drive out on Thursday with little script just to be. We ended up on the road out of Hawes towards Sedbergh which has stunning views and we ended up in Morecambe. I’ve not been to Morecambe since we took children from inner city Manchester on holiday from college years ago and we stayed at Littledale Hall. It was fun to see the Eric Morecambe statue. His comedy is timeless. The Andrew Preview skit is as funny as ever. 

Wednesday this week was the day of reflection two years after we all were put in a first lockdown because of Covid. I found Wednesday really hard. I can’t believe so many have died, how two years on we are still living with Covid and that cases are rising fast again. Nor can I understand why we are being told there are no concerns about this from the government… don’t get me started! The nurse told me my blood pressure is better at the moment :) It felt important to share in a minute’s silence held in Ripon Cathedral. There weren’t many of us there but it was good to remember sacred space is often used to at times of importance in the nation. I was also glad Wednesday was my chaplaincy time at Fountains Abbey. Wednesday afternoon was glorious weather wise. I did four miles of walking and thinking. 

Our trip out on Thursday included a look inside the little church at Garsdale. I’m enjoying just pulling over by churches and seeing if they are open. Most are! This little church was lovely. It was built in 1861 to the east of the site of a ancient church and consecrated by the Bishop of Ripon on 23 November that year. In his sermon he commended the efforts made to replace “the miserable building which he had visited some years ago for one more suitable to the solemn worship of Almighty God.” 

On Friday, we had a day in York. York is only forty five minutes away but we’d not been to visit it apart from going to the park and ride for a PCR test several times and to Doner Summer, a vegan fast food place. So despite it being busy on a very warm day, it was good to have time exploring. I started with the shrine of St Margaret Clitherow on the Shambles.

My main reason for visiting York was to experience the Minster. It was, as expected, busy, but it was a dignified and respectful busy. I found it a powerful place and it felt very sacred to me. I enjoyed seeing some quirks as I went round such as the statues with no heads. During the 16th century Protestant reformers accused Catholics of praying to statues. In a bid to stop this they attacked statues, either getting rid of them completely or making them unrecognisable by removing the heads and haloes. I also enjoyed the semaphore saints over the west door. The sculptor made them headless to make the point that despite having no mouths to speak the saints can still portray one of the Minster’s core messages, “Christ is here.” 

I was most fascinated by the bosses in the nave roof which were replaced by the Victorians after a fire. One is a nativity scene in which they decided Mary would feed baby Jesus with a bottle! We met a guide who oozed information. He showed me in his book one with the disciples in a circle with two feet in the middle of them. I assumed wrongly it was the washing of feet at the last supper. Wrong. It shows the ascension: Jesus’ feet disappearing upward! Brilliant! I look forward to returning to the Minster soon. There’s loads to see. 

Part of the joy of sabbatical is that even though you have a programme, it doesn’t usually work out how you planned and you get divine surprises. Friday night and Saturday brought me four of them. I found peace and comfort in all of them. We went into the North York Moors leaving York on Friday through Dalby Forest and into the middle of nowhere. Suddenly Lis spotted some white figures in a dip to the right of the road we were on. I stopped to look. The white figures were the stations of the cross. We’d stumbled upon a Coptic orthodox monastery in a place called Langdale End! The monastery of St Athanasius is the first Coptic monastery in this country. It opened in 2004. I looked up what someone staying with them might experience… the monks rise at 4am for prayer!!! 

Up the road I stopped at a little church. It was open. It was very peaceful. As I left it, two ladies were bringing flowers to put on a grave. The conversation went like this:

Me: “It’s lovely to see your church open.”

Them: “It shouldn’t be. It hasn’t been open for ages. We had glass stolen.

Me: “Well it is open. I’ve just been in it.”

Them: “Someone must have left it unlocked!”

On Saturday I went to perhaps my two favourite sacred spaces so far on this journey. Mount Grace Priory is the best example of a Carthusian monastery there is. It was enormous in its day. I had the place to myself. It oozed spirituality and peace. I am glad to have found so many places I can pop it in the days ahead for some peace, even for a short while. 

Then finally this week, I found Ampleforth Abbey. What a vast building! It was founded in 1802, and is home to a community of more than fifty five monks. I arrived to find it open well after six in the evening. Vespers was being sung and the chanting was magical. Afterwards I sat in the worship space alone. It was brilliant! There are some Lent talks with compline so we plan to return. I wasn’t expecting to end this week with two incredible spaces. 

So I will let the brothers of Ampleforth have the last word this week. In a homily for St Benedict’s Day, which was last Monday, one of the brothers talked about sacred priorities. The first was praying together as a community of faith. Not seeing this prayer as duty but as the gift of holding the world before the heart of the creator.

 “This is the community’s first form of service, our commitment to the power of prayer, presence, silence, listening to and speaking his Word.”

“From that loving presence we consciously become a community who share the joys and sorrows, the successes and failures, the talents, and the weakness. Benedict asks us to find something beautiful, something to appreciate, encourage and affirm in each person we meet.”

 Perhaps after nearly eight weeks of sabbatical I’m rediscovering what church has to be. How I convince others that God’s call to be sacred and serving has to come first will be my huge challenge in an institution we are trying to keep going. Have we lost our purpose and God’s comfort as church has become one big stress? Maybe.

Sabbatical blog 7: Sacred space and burning bushes

I’ve had to write a sermon this week. On Sunday I’m leading worship in the Fens Circuit and having the farewell we never had nearly two years ago. This week my thoughts use my delving into Exodus and the sacred spaces we’ve visited over the last few days. 

Where has God been in all of the turmoil about, in times we’d rather not inhabit? If we believe in a God who is involved in the world, we need to find him in tough stuff.

Some people say the Bible has nothing to say about today. Well, those people haven’t read Exodus. In the book of Exodus we have the grab for power by a unhinged leader, a nation on the move and a God who offers a new direction through a prophet who just about sticks with him. Let’s hear what God’s people faced many many centuries ago. Egypt used to be great. But now, it had become life threatening… 

“I have observed the misery of my people.” “I have heard their cry.”

I’m just over half way through this three month sabbatical. I am enjoying receiving worship rather than leading it. It’s been very interesting seeing how worship leaders have dealt with the situation in Ukraine since it all kicked off there a few weeks ago.

The first Sunday after the invasion we were at St Mary Magdalen hospital chapel in Ripon, a place that was built to look after those seeking sanctuary and healing many years ago. The priest told us there would be no sermon and we would sit and pray in silence instead.

The second Sunday we were at a choral evensong in Harrogate. The priest there told us he had no words and so again there was to be no sermon and that we were to enjoy choral evensong more than we’d ever enjoyed it before so that the noise of angel song might drown out the noise he has to turn off on the television news. 

Last Sunday we were in a Methodist service at Elvet in Durham. The preacher did preach! He began his sermon like this: Pestilence, war, famine, death. Following the news, one might be forgiven for wondering if the four horsemen of the apocalypse have entered the home straight and are charging full speed for the finishing line. He called us to lament and he ended like this: “Lament is holy and appropriate. God hears those fleeing for their lives, he hears us when we feel helpless, and he is among his people – humiliated on the cross and glorified in heaven. Therefore, sisters and brothers, in our prayer, our giving, and our actions in solidarity with all in need, let us stand firm. Stand firm in the Lord.”

I was really pleased to be in Durham last Sunday again. Martin Clarke, the preacher, was excellent. He used two hymns from the Justice and Peace section of the hymn book I have never used. We were made very welcome. It was good afterwards to get some space on Prebends Bridge. We’d hoped to do cathedral Evensong but it was busy with a university service so we gave it a miss. 

What to say this week in worship? I’m struggling watching horrific images in Ukraine of indescribable suffering. I’m also struggling that Covid is still very much in my life. I hate being clinically extremely vulnerable. I hate face coverings. I keep telling my largest church I wasn’t trained to lead a church through a pandemic! It’s easy to avoid thinking how to interpret the times.  

Let’s take courage from the Exodus. Suddenly the people of God became other, them, the stranger, a threat. 

Suddenly a leader sets out to mistreat them, to enslave them and to kill their children. Soon they have no choice but to get out. But they do not get out alone. They will spend years, generations as refugees, but God has a plan. Thank God! 

So how does God work? Through a man called Moses and a burning bush at the side of the road. You ever seen a burning bush where you live? 

Burning bushes are those circumstances or events that interrupt life and grab our attention. They are not part of our plans. They take us by surprise. They stop us in our tracks and cause us to turn aside. We take a second look. Sometimes we are brought up short, speechless, at a loss for words. We cannot but look at them. 

Regardless of how it comes to us the burning bush shatters the horizon of our expectation. Moses never thought it possible for a bush to be on fire but not be burned up. He never expected or planned on being the one to bring God’s people out of Egypt. Those were beyond his horizon of expectation.

God says to Moses  “I have observed the misery of my people.” “I have heard their cry.” “I know their suffering, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians.” Now it sounds like we’re getting somewhere. God is coming to rescue God’s people. But listen to what God next says to Moses. “So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of the land of Egypt.”  

“I have come down to deliver them,” God says. “So come, I will send you,” God says to Moses. 

God is going to deliver God’s people by sending Moses. Moses is to give existence to God’s call for deliverance. Moses is to make real and enact God’s desire for the people. What if that’s how God is working in our lives too? I wonder when you and I have not turned aside. When have we failed or refused to respond to the call on our lives? 

The burning bush story is one of call and response. Something is being called for in the name of God. And I can’t help but believe that call and response is also the story of our lives. Something is being asked of us in the name of God. On Sunday afternoon, I visited St Hilda’s Church in Hartlepool. Hilda set up a priory there before the one in Whitby. It now stands on the headland serving what I perceived might be an impoverished community. 

So here’s where the church comes in. 

The more positive images coming out of the Ukrainian suffering are the kindness of those making sacrifices for the good of others, the generosity of people in other countries providing sanctuary, the solidarity in tying bits of yellow and blue ribbon on church gates as I’ve seen a lot or hold prayer vigils or rallies. People taking others into their homes. Shelter offered. Compassion shared. Prayers offered, goods sent, money raised. The more positive images that have come out of Covid have been neighbourliness I think. I worry now we have been told personal responsibility some will forget the more vulnerable. 

Are we prepared in a time of uncertainty to look aside and see what God might want of us? Do we hear the cry of those around us? 

Sometimes we just need to see that God hasn’t finished with us yet. We can like the Israelites come to believe in suffering that God has stopped working so we get depressed and disillusioned. A burning bush – a sign of confidence, of divine activity, of beckoning to a new future. A word from the new minister – a beckoning we might still matter and have a task. 

People are searching for something. Are we burning on the road or keeping the fire inside which is slowly going out? What is there exciting for people to stop and take notice of in churches today? On Wednesday morning, I went to the church at Leake, just off the A19. I’d noticed it floodlit while whizzing past before. Leake is a deserted medieval village. But the church is still there and it is playing the tourist and pilgrim card very well. I found it peaceful and gently Spirit filled. 

Are we open to God working in new ways? Are we ready to respond? 

You see both with Ukraine and with Covid, they’ve needed people who don’t give up, who embrace what’s round them, who see a new possibility, stepping up and being the people God expects them to be. If God is incarnate in Jesus, he is in the desolation of Ukrainian bombing, displacement and uncertainty, he is with those still worried about Covid and all the other pressures of life in 2022. If God is crucified as Jesus is broken on a cross and bleeds for the world, we might need to be broken and bleed too. If God is on the road manifested in power and possibility, we need to be alive and noticed with a message that is worth noticing.

I also visited St John’s in Sharow on Wednesday. That felt a warm and contemporary place. It has been refurbished and is well used. I liked it. 

The worship leaders of the past three weeks for me have it right…

We need to be silent in prayer. 

We need to be confident in what we know to be true.

We need to stand firm. 

Let me add another preacher to them:

Dr W E Sangster was the senior minister at Westminster Central Hall at the outbreak of World War Two.

The sanctuary, seating 3000, was full morning and evening for the next 16 years as Sangster customarily preached 30 to 45 minutes. As deep and sturdy below ground as Central Hall was capacious above, its basement became an air-raid shelter as soon as the German assault began. 

The first night was indescribable as thousands squeezed in, high-born and low, adult and infant, sober and drunk, clean and lousy. Equally adept at administration and preaching, Sangster quickly laid out the cavernous cellar in sandbagged "streets" so as to afford minimal privacy to those who particularly needed it. Sunday services continued upstairs in the sanctuary. A red light in the pulpit warned that an air-raid was imminent. Usually he chose to ignore it. If it were drawn to his attention he would pause and say quietly, "Those of a nervous disposition may leave now" -- and resume the service. 

While his wife sought to feed the hordes who appeared nightly, he assisted and comforted them until midnight, then "retired" to work until 2:00 a.m. on his Ph.D thesis for London University. As space in the below-ground shelter was scarce, he and his family lived at great risk for five years on the hazardous ground floor. They slept nightly in the men's washroom amidst the sound of incessant drips and the malodorous smells. By war's end, 450,000 people had found refuge in the church-basement.

I’ve mentioned the church as refuge a lot on this journey so far. On Friday we had a lovely day in the countryside of County Durham and Northumberland. Our first stop was to the little Saxon church at Escomb. I love the fact you get the key from off a hook at a house on a 1960’s housing estate which surrounds the church which wasn’t there when it was built!

The little church was plain but I sensed the story of God’s people through the years in it. 

I’m ending my sermon like this to the good people of the Fens Circuit who were so kind to us during our short time there. They made a difference at a time I just needed the church to be a good, caring place.

The burning bush experience does not happen apart from or in spite of every day life but in the midst of life, in the keeping of our flocks. That’s what Moses was doing when this happened. He was keeping the flock of his father in law. He was doing the ordinary routine things of his life, the same things he did the day before, the week before, and the month before. Burning bushes show up as we keep our flocks of routine and every day life.

How does Moses know if he’ll get it right? He doesn’t. He doesn’t know any more than we do. There will, however, be a sign. The sign, God says, will come after the people have been delivered, not before. It’s as if God is saying you’ll look back on all this and see I was there all along. And isn’t that a pretty accurate description of life? We live life forward, uncertain and not knowing, but we only begin to understand and make sense of it in retrospect. 

What if there are no guarantees and the best, the most, we can do is to respond hoping against hope, loving and “faithing” our way forward? What if that’s how we approached every burning bush in our life? And what if we saw “every common bush afire with God?” Sacred spots are worth looking aside to ponder.

Three other visits happened on Friday. We found Blanchland, and the abbey there. The abbey didn’t feel very warm to me and raising money seems to be the reason it’s open. An ancient church and a table of crappy DVDs for sale grated on me a bit. The village felt quite strange too. We returned to Hexham Abbey as I wanted to get into Wilfrid’s crypt. As I arrived too near closing time, a rather officious steward refused to let me go down to it. We will need a third visit it seems! I did get some pictures of the lovely stained glass though. 

Then finally we discovered Corbridge. I discovered a fabulous bookshop in the old Wesleyan chapel and opposite it by the church a vicar’s pele. This was a fortified vicarage to protect the incumbent from the Scots! It now is a wedding venue and a micro gin bar. I’m discovering what closed churches can be turned into as I pass so many of them. I was interested to read the Methodist community in Corbridge are leaving their building on Easter Sunday and sharing the Anglican building. 

At the moment, we offer Ukraine, Russia, Covid, growing poverty in this country and other challenges to God whose love in Jesus we cannot be separated from. He has heard the misery of his people.

We go on just being his church. He will bless that. Keep your eyes open. What we see  may be him calling us, using us and changing us forever.

Sabbatical blog 6: Spare us, Lord

This week I have been thinking about sacred space which is a space for humanity to express its rawness and let God respond to that cry. My beloved Old Testament tutor at Hartley, David Wood taught us the need for lament in liturgy, as there are times when it isn’t okay out there and we need the space to voice that. 

We began this sixth week of journeying at choral Evensong at St Peter’s Church in the middle of Harrogate. It is a beautiful Victorian building with some very well done contemporary refurbishment. The retired priest leading us, Michael Hunter, said he had no words about the state of the world but he hoped we’d enjoy choral Evensong like we’d never been enjoyed it before:  that angel song might one day drown out the noise of where we find ourselves he has to turn off. 

The choir sang the anthem “Remember not, Lord, our offences” by Henry Purcell. The priest noted it was not quite as printed on our service sheet, “thank God” he said! I found the words powerful:

“Remember not, Lord, our offences, 

Nor the offences of our forefathers

Neither take thou vengeance of our sins,

But spare us, good Lord.

Spare thy people, whom thou hast redeemed with thy most precious blood, and be not angry with us for ever.

Spare us, good Lord.”

The silence after the last sentence was awesome. We need sparing! There was no sermon. Again, we were told he had no words. It’s been interesting when we’ve focussed on Ukraine in worship these last few days, we’ve not had it preached, we’ve been invited to be silent and seek God. God weeps at the moment. There was a dreadful image in Monday’s papers of a young family and their pet dog in a carrier all killed by a bomb as they were trying to escape. Horrific. Then imagine you get to Calais hoping to get to our welcoming country and you are told to go back to Paris or Brussels for the right papers but here’s a bottle of water, a bag of crisps and a Kit Kat. 

We ended the service with “Jerusalem the golden” A hymn reminding us of the end we hope for. I’d not sung it in years. The hymn has long since disappeared from Methodist hymn books: it might now be a bit Victorian and trite but I got why it was chosen last Sunday. 

On Monday afternoon I went into the cathedral at 4pm and found I had the place to myself! There was no one about at all and without people in it it felt more sacred. I went into the crypt of St Wilfrid, the only bit of his original building left from 672. The crypt is the oldest part of any English cathedral still in use today. The fact that prayer and longings have been voiced here for 1350 years is mind blowing! The crypt was built to reciprocate Christ’s tomb. It’s tiny and dark. There is an information sign down there which says pilgrims later visiting the crypt would then climb the stairs to the light and magnificence of the cathedral to be reminded of the power of the resurrection. It was good to have a slow solitary pilgrimage. The stones felt soaked in honest prayer. I was joining many others who over 1350 years have offered them there. 

 I’m discovering on this journey many local spots that, when I’m back at work and need space to hide in I can just go and find. I found in Skelton cum Newby on Thursday, the amazing church of Christ the Consoler. I was overwhelmed by it but then found its story… 

“With its colourful and vibrant interior, this Victorian church seems the very celebration of life, yet it stands as a testament to tragedy.

It is a memorial to Frederick Vyner who, age 23, was captured and murdered by brigands in Greece in 1870. His mother, Lady Mary Vyner of Newby Hall, used the money collected for his ransom to commission British architect William Burges –- celebrated for decorating Westminster Palace and rebuilding Cardiff Castle -– to design this church built in 1871 to 1876 in the grounds of her home at Newby Hall.

The interior is wonderfully rich and colourful - pattern and colour are everywhere, with stained glass, fine marble and gilded mosaics filling the interior. Exquisite carvings on the corbels and on the organ case bring stone and wood to life, while in the rose window, Christ the Consoler presides.

Everything is on a magnificent scale; the effect is almost overwhelming. And yet, for all its splendour, you cannot forget the tragic circumstances out of which this church was built.”

The church here was built out of a grieving mother’s pain. And now it’s owned by the Churches Conservation Trust and not used for worship except a notice said you can hire it for services. I spoke out loud in it being in it on my own and my voice boomed out and I found the place strange but peaceful. I will return.

On Friday, we had to be in Harrogate so I took the chance to return to St Peter’s Church to see the contemporary image of the Last Supper by Iain Campbell. They are using the open table as their Lent theme. I saw the painting in progress during my last sabbatical in 2016 on a visit to the Tron Church in Glasgow, so it was good to see it completed. I found this on Iain’s website: the folk in despair today are Christ. Very powerful. 

“This was the very first image Iain painted in St George’s Tron, Church of Scotland. The Last Supper is the central image to Christianity; it is round the table that Jesus said, ‘remember me’. Guests of Glasgow City Mission were selected as the models – choosing some of the most marginalised in society to be painted rather that those who are richer. 

People often ask “which of the people in the painting is Jesus?” It felt important to Iain that no one stood out as a conventional Christ figure; in Matthew 25, Jesus says, ‘whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me’ and with that in mind, any one of the poorest people we meet can represent Jesus.”

On Friday afternoon, we had a drive into parts of Nidderdale we hadn’t yet discovered. Sadly churches in Dacre and Darley and Hampsthwaite had their doors closed but I did find one open in Birstwith. This was yet another vast Victorian building, built in 1857. The Victorians did vast well! I didn’t feel particularly welcome in it as I was interrupting the organ tuner! But at least it was open. 

The sacred space moment of the week came not from a visit but from a television programme. Stacey Dooley spent several weeks with the sisters of the Order of the Holy Paraclete who live in community near Whitby. She has no faith but went open to what might happen to her while there. The programme saw her enter into the discipline of regular worship and prayer and good works, such as at a food bank in Middlesbrough. The sisters were a delight. They radiated calm and peace and were full of joy and laughter. Why did this programme hit me? Well, Stacey Dooley said to them when the world is bad she thought there cannot be a God, whereas they lived a life which says when it is bad, God is.

 I’ve written on this journey about regular prayer and relying on the promises you recite regularly. I keep thinking about those sisters and their manner. Their lives are full of God. Maybe when this journey is done I need to be better in between stuff to recite and remember a bit more. My spiritual director has suggested I put my little Book of Common Prayer in my pocket and use it through the day wherever I am. 

At the end of the programme, as Stacey Dooley was preparing to leave, the sisters told she didn’t have to become a nun to find God, but you can find God in simple things like a sunrise or a sunset or in people or acts of kindness. I recommend the programme to you if you haven’t seen it. 

https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m00156nh

On Friday afternoon I saw God in the silence of Brimham Rocks, an weird yet amazing place. The rocks have been there for thousands of years. I wasn’t expecting so many of them and the views over Nidderdale are fabulous. 

I’m still seeing closed churches as I’m travelling about but this week I’ve seen churches reminding people to pray for Ukraine. Even blue and yellow ribbons on one which wasn’t open just outside Pateley Bridge, sent out a strong message.

So what’s the message of this week? That our yearning to be spared will be heard. And that we don’t always need a church building to do that! And again regular crying out to God will be heard — in the end. I wonder when we are struggling to keep our churches going whether we need to seek God’s will far more about what to do. The energy we spend worrying about money in the end will drain us without us being earthed in God first. 

I met two members of one of my churches - well I bumped into them -  and they shared their worries with me about the future of their church which is struggling. The word “depressing” was used. How do I get the folk there to see God may not be finished with them yet. We are bad at being open. And yet when we seek God, God answers. Perhaps we bury ourselves in church survival and worry because getting involved in God’s solution might involve more work than we cope with, especially as we are tired. Discuss! 

Spare us, Lord. 

I end these thoughts with Ukraine again which has dominated this sabbatical. These words of the Ukrainian President remind us that even in the darkest time God will act…

“You could destroy all our Ukrainian cathedrals and churches, we will not destroy our faith.

“Our sincere faith in Ukraine and in God. Faith in people.

Sabbatical blog 5: Sacred space as sanctuary

This week I’ve been thinking about how sacred space should be hospitable and safe for everyone. Are we radically inclusive and welcoming or do we keep the needy out? Are our doors really open to all? After all, who is in or out is not a decision for the church to make. My contemporary spiritual heroine Nadia Bolz-Weber writing about her house for saints and sinners says describing any church as a tent that “it is not the church’s tent, it is God’s tent.”

I write in a week where people searching for refuge and safety is a real issue. We have continued this week to see women, children and pets journey out of Ukraine as refugees into uncertainty. There are communities offering sanctuary which has always been a deeply spiritual and pastoral action in a time of crisis when life is threatened if you stay where you are. I keep thinking of men in this situation under 60. They’re all compelled to stay and fight. That would be me were I Ukrainian. It’s shuddering. 

Is sanctuary a response to God today? 

Last Sunday morning, we went to the service at Mary Magdalen’s Church in Ripon, I guess the nearest to our manse. It was originally founded as a hospital around the year 1115 near a crossing of the river Ure at the northern edge of the city. Archbishop Thurston provided funds for a priest to say mass in the hospital chapel and sisters to give food, clothing and shelter to any leper born or living in “Ripshire.” The hospital was instructed to give food and a bed for the night to lepers from outside of Ripon. It also gave alms to the poor and cared for blind priests within the Liberty of Ripon. Today it is known as the leper chapel and there’s a low window where the lepers would watch the mass from outside. 

Eventually the leper house was closed through lack of inmates and turned into almshouses, where people still live today. The Victorians had  built a new church across the road, and the original building was left to decay. It was used by a local farmer as a pig sty. Thankfully it was restored and now has a congregation meeting in it every Sunday. 

The service on Sunday was very powerful. It was an unhurried shared recitation of the communion service from the Book of Common Prayer. The celebrant, Canon Michael Glanville-Smith, led the service very gently. Instead of a sermon he gave us time to pray in silence for Ukraine as he had no words. There were no hymns and the liturgy was Spirit filled. I was struck in a place of hospitality by the phrase “I am not worthy to receive you under my roof.” That Christ is present everywhere especially where we don’t deserve such care. The highlight of the service for me was hearing, in the context of war, 2 Corinthians 4:

“We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.” I imagined the lepers and the desperate crossing the river to the north seeking sanctuary finding it in this place. I needed sanctuary in worship and I found it in 1662 words and simple, unfussy, quiet worship. It was also good to receive communion. I kept thinking of Muse’s banging track “Uprising”:

“They will not force us, they will stop degrading us, they will not control us, we will be victorious.”

After the service the kettle went on and we enjoyed the company of the folk there, a lot of retired priests and nuns! I found a piece of heaven on earth in this little place, alive and supportive and we will be back there before this sabbatical ends. Maybe all you need to find space is the 1662 communion service! 

We’d decided on Sunday evening to drive an hour to Sunderland as I’d spotted a compline at the ancient church of St Peter at Monkwearmouth, the church was associated with Bede and his contemporary, Benedict Biscop. If you are going to invite people into sacred space, make sure your website is up to date! We arrived to find the church in darkness and locked!! A pity. We got space with a curry in South Shields instead but it was a lost evening really. 

Tuesday was a glorious sunny day to begin my second sabbatical month - and the start of Spring. I was told last week about Malham Methodist Chapel. Malham Chapel is open every day between 10am and 6pm. The front door locks automatically at 6pm. The village was full of walkers and visitors on a sunny day so there was clearly a plan to play the tourist card. The chapel had got down to two members. It has now been refurbished as a multi use space.

Inside I found a table with knitted angels on and visitors are encouraged to take one away and write in a visitors book where it is going. There were scenes from the area painted on the floor.  There was a prayer tree and displays about the history of the chapel and of wider Methodism and there were leaflets about Christianity available and most helpfully a series of reflections to use exploring the beauty of Malhamdale, reminding the user of God the creator. They now have two Sunday services a month and a couple of village drop ins and the space is advertised as good for hiring for quiet days. 

Here was a example of sacred space used differently. I would have done the displays a bit neater maybe but I was inspired by what they’d done. I hope they get people visiting them. How we use our rural spaces for everyone and don’t leave them locked up apart from an hour a week or even every two weeks is something I intend to explore with my folk. Get your churches open!! 

My day on Wednesday was again disrupted by wet weather so I cried off chaplaincy duty at Fountains Abbey. I spent an hour in Ripon Cathedral. The welcoming lady asked me if it was my first visit. It was good she was friendly. First impressions matter. I was there for 3pm to see what prayers on the hour were like. We prayed for Ukraine and for peace. The duty chaplain, well into his 80’s, came and chatted to me after the prayers. He does two days a month on duty. I was quite shocked when he looked at the candle lit for the people of Ukraine and to encourage prayer, and he asked me “what do you think of this?” gesticulating at the candle, then said “I don’t think it does much good!”

Oh dear!

Wednesday was, of course, Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. We went to the service at Holy Trinity in Ripon, the more conservative expression of Anglicanism in the city. The service was fine but there was not enough misery for me!! Ash Wednesday is about penitence for me. But it was good to be there.  Holy Trinity is a lively community and has a fabulous space beautifully refurbished. 

The rest of this week has seen the situation in Ukraine and Russia worsen. The images of  people trying to escape are unbearable to watch. They are crying out for sanctuary. There are stories emerging of those with faith crying out the words of Psalm 31. We are not in a place where we need to cry for life itself to be saved. We have problems and we get stressed but our life is not in danger. I end this week constantly thinking about ordinary people caught up in a horror I cannot even imagine.

“In you, Lord, I take refuge; let me never be put to shame. In your righteousness deliver me;

incline your ear to me; make haste to rescue me! Be my rock of refuge, a stronghold to save me.

For you are my rock and my fortress; for your name’s sake lead me and guide me. Free me from the net they have set for me, for you are my refuge. Into your hands I commend my spirit; you will redeem me, Lord, God of truth.”

Maybe we all need a bit of escapism and solace in a complicated life. We aren’t in Ukraine or Russia or the countries trying to house refugees, but we all find life difficult and need time out. Some people find that in church or ancient holy sites, others in other places that become a religion or hope to them. We went into the Lake District on Saturday for Lis’s birthday. We saw a lot of walkers round Derwentwater. Maybe being out in the sun on a nice spring day for them was sacred space.

Then we saw this need for escapism in a less positive way ending up in Newcastle city centre on a Saturday night - big mistake! Newcastle FC had won 2 - 1 against Brighton. They are doing rather better now under Eddie Howe. The masses were out rather inebriated! We had to try and not run some of them over. One man came up the car and shouted at me “TOON!” For him and others, St James Park or whatever we call it now, is a cathedral of hope, or not! 

Hospitality and safety. Huge issues. For those of faith wherever we are that comes in God who does mess and opens the tent of welcome to all, wherever you find yourself. The Archbishop of Canterbury in a recent Thought for the Day has it right:

“Let us find our resolution, our peace, our certainty not by screwing up our courage, but in the knowledge of the eternal arms that hold us.”